Endgame
by TV Manic 2
Summary: Sheppard and the team step through the gate…and into the middle of a warzone. As Prisoners of War they find themselves trapped not only by their captors, but by the very planet as it falls apart around them… Teamfic, no pairings, set S4
1. Past as Prologue

**Stargate Atlantis -:- Endgame**

**Summary:**

Sheppard and the team step through the gate…and into the middle of a warzone. As Prisoners of War they find themselves trapped not only by their captors, but by the very planet as it falls apart around them…

**Setting/Spoilers: **

Early Season 4 (Carter leader/pre-Teyla pregnancy)/Anything pre-season four is fair game

**Pairings: **

None, though I might possibly hint some _minor_ Sheyla…

**Genre/Rating: **

Action/Adventure/Suspense/Disaster/War/Hurt/Comfort – Shep-whump is par for the course – A little bit of everything hopefully/T to be safe

**Disclaimer:**

I own nothing. (Short and to the point I think)

**Author's Note(s): (There are many…sorry…)**

I am still alive, despite my brush with death from my manic, hysterical dancing of complete and utter happiness – thank you so much to everyone who has read/reviewed etc. etc. _The Collective_ – I still can't believe I got into triple figures on the review count! And in response to the demands on the last chapter, yes, I do intend to do a sequel, but I have no plot at this stage so I'll come back to it later!

Now on to this fic: I got the idea for this after watching _the Day After Tomorrow _and _2012_ back-to-back and decided that I just had to write an end of the world fic! I was originally going to end Earth, but it didn't make sense for the team to be there so I've picked a planet from the Pegasus Galaxy, hope you don't mind lol.

And finally, I have not avidly watched SG-1 so I have no idea if the whole 'every planet in two galaxies inexplicably speaks English' thing has been explained – if it has I'm sorry, but I still want to put the joke in :P

We start off from an OC's perspective, but only for the first chapter, so bear with me if you don't like that sort of thing… Anyway, I think I'm done rambling now – Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One -:- Past as Prologue<strong>

**NORTH SOLARIS: DOMILITIS FRONT LINE  
><strong>**47 Hours 57 Minutes and counting**

The oppressive sun beat down on the red sands of the desert planet, the stifling heat breaching the thick ceiling of the underground complex. It was the command nexus for the war being fought on the surface. It was hastily built and yet supposedly structurally sound; constructed with wooden support beams and bricked up with dark red sand blocks. It had recently survived its trial by fire from an enemy bombing raid not two days prior – not that that made Dawn feel any better.

She hurried through the corridors, warily watching the ceiling with every ominous creak. She knew they were not that far underground, the consistent heat was a testament to that, but she didn't fancy being trapped in a cave-in regardless of the relatively short dig to the surface. Usually she avoided the military outposts like the slaves, but she had soon revised her opinion when she had heard the news:

There really was Life out there in the Void.

_Aliens. Real live aliens. _Her head spun at the possibilities – maybe they were not so completely doomed after all. She tried to banish the ticking clock hovering over her head (or technically, beneath her feet) and focus on the reason she was here. _Aliens._

Excitement buzzed through her and she doubled her pace, sending the skirts of her uniform flying behind her. She had read the report several times on the flight up from the main city, almost reluctant to believe what she so hoped was true – four strangers, materializing as if by magic right in front of the newest trench.

They had only recently gained the ground, and had lost many lives in the process. The enemy bombing raid had unearthed a great metal ring etched with strange symbols. It was too far into the no man's land for further study to be made and had been abandoned as they focused on fighting their war. They regretted leaving it now – apparently it was the ring that the aliens had stepped out of. It must be a transporter of some kind – a gateway to other worlds – a salvation for her people.

A loud rumble sounded around her and Dawn froze. The ground beneath her feet moved, tipping her off-balance, so she staggered over to the wall for support. Small debris and sand cascaded from the ceiling, peppering her dark hair. Panic bubbled up inside of her, but she just about managed to keep it at bay. This was not her first tremor; and the complex has survived many as well – it would hold…she hoped.

Finally the shaking abated and she pushed herself tentatively away from the wall. She took a deep breath to slow her frantic heart, regretting it when she choked on the dust in the air. Once the coughing fit subsided she ran a hand through her hair to clear it of debris and moved on again. _It will be worth it to meet the aliens._

The complex ran the entire length of the front line, consisting mostly of thin corridors that joined together cube-shaped sections. It was just typical that the brig would be the complete opposite end to the landing pad entrance, keeping her confined to the claustrophobic halls for as long as possible. She passed very few soldiers – they were all in the trenches waiting for the order for the next big Push; only those of the higher ranks would be in the relative safety of the complex.

Eventually, after what seemed like an age in the oven-baked tubes, she made it to the last section. She nodded at a guard who took one look at the insignia on her chest and stood aside, gesturing unnecessarily in the direction of the cell. She brushed past him and headed down the final corridor that brought her to the brig's outer door. She paused to collect herself, double-checking that she was debris-free, and then stepped inside. She just about stifled her wondrous gasp.

The brig was an 8 metre-square room, with a 6 metre-square glass cube in the centre. Floor lamps ran the outer edge of the cell, illuminating it like a display case for the specimens inside. The Aliens.

_Nu'h__â__lla!_ They were amazing! There were four of them, as promised, three of them wearing the same uniform with the fourth looking like a Domilitis warrior from the Old Days. They all stood warily at her arrival, studying her just as intently as she was studying them. They looked so strange and mismatched with their differing skin and hair pigments, and though none of them had the dark skin of the Solarians, she could see the similarities to her own people. Were they the same species? Was it even possible for life to evolve in the same way on two different planets? Or was the ring somehow involved?

Dawn realised she was staring, her bottom jaw practically touching the floor. Abruptly she closed it, trying to remember that she was a professional – the foremost expert on the Void, actually. She was so out of her depth.

"_Sol'a_," she said by way of greeting, raising her right hand. The aliens eyed her suspiciously as if she had just uttered a curse. She hesitated, lowering her hand again. "I was told that you are able to understand us?"

The one closest to her, the male with the bizarre black hair and white skin replied. "Yeah, we understand you."

Dawn almost stumbled backwards in surprise, despite the warning in the report. How could these beings possibly know Solarian? She briefly contemplated the possibility that they were imposters from an enemy colony, but she knew of no such people that looked as strangely as they. Was it some form of technology or were they some sort of super-intelligent race? "H-How are you able to speak our language?"

The alien smiled oddly. "You know, I've always wondered that. How come every planet we gate to always seems to inexplicably speak English?" He turned to one of his companions, the other uniformed male. "Any idea, Rodney?"

Dawn struggled to keep up, her thoughts tripping on the phrase 'every planet' – just how many worlds, and alien races, were out there? The one the alien referred to as 'Rodney' shot him an irritated look. "I think the blood loss is addling your brain, Sheppard. You really think it's wise to tell her that?"

She assumed that 'Sheppard' was the dark-haired alien's name. He half-shrugged, his left arm trapped in a sling, the shoulder bandaged. Dark blood was already seeping through. Rodney appeared to be right about the blood loss as Sheppard swayed slightly on his feet. "It's not exactly classified information…is it?"

Dawn looked between the two of them as they continued back and forth like a game of Gra'hulli, the other two aliens seemingly content to let them verbally battle it out. It was odd to listen to them speak such fluent Solarian while still using completely foreign terms that left her flailing in confusion. She struggled to grasp the complexities of the aliens, wanting to understand but fearing she never would – even if she did have the time. After a while her neck grew tired of following the Gra'hulli match. "You are truly strange creatures…"

The bickering pair seemed to suddenly remember that they were in the presence of company and abruptly quieted. It was the female with the golden hair and skin that spoke then. "We are not creatures; we are humans, just like you."

Dawn snorted in disbelief. "That is impossible. I have never seen a human of your pigments…"

"That is because we are from other worlds," the female alien interrupted. Dawn noted the plural. "I am Teyla Emmagan of Athos, this is Ronon Dex of Sateda and this is Dr McKay and Colonel Sheppard of…" she glanced at Sheppard who half-shrugged again. "…of Earth. We are explorers."

Three planets. Three potential places of refuge. "I am Sana Dawn Talyn of the Domilitis Military Science Division." She turned to look at Sheppard, curious of the title. "'Colonel' is a high rank for an 'explorer' – should you not be directing the battles of your home…_world_?"

Sheppard looked a little surprised by that. Was he not a soldier? Did they not fight wars on his planet? That would be…refreshing. Dawn thought of the war being fought a little over two miles away – one of many on their small planet. He didn't seem to have an answer, so she decided to move on. "How did you arrive on Solaris?"

It was Rodney…or Dr. McKay…who answered this time. "We came through the Stargate – you know, the big metal ring? It's a device built by an advanced race we call the Ancients that creates wormholes that allow instantaneous interplanetary travel by dematerializing matter at one end and then rematerializing it at the other. The Ancients built a whole load of them on a bunch of inhabitable planets where they intended to put humans."

Dawn blinked as she tried to comprehend what the alien was saying. He appeared to be the smart one judging by his vocabulary and she drew the conclusion that his title of 'Doctor' was the equivalent of her 'Sana'. Not that her extensive education and high intelligence was helping her much at the moment.

"You don't have a clue what I'm talking about, do you?" Rodney/Dr. McKay asked scathingly at her blank look. He turned to Sheppard. "You were right; they're oblivious to what even the backwater people of this galaxy know. Could this day get any worse?"

"You could get shot in the shoulder too," Sheppard retorted. He was leaning against the glass wall now, his odd white skin even paler that it had been. He seemed to be losing his patience with the conversation. "What do you want from us?"

Dawn studied the aliens, or the foreign humans as she guessed she should call them. "We need to know what you know, about the…'_Stargate_', about the other planets, the people and the resources. We need…"

She hesitated, and glanced behind her to check that the outer door was closed. The aliens...the foreign humans…noticed her change in demeanour and shifted slightly. "What I am about to tell you is highly classified, but as you will never get the chance to talk I suppose there is no harm in telling you. Solaris is dying; it has been for a long time now. You have felt the tremors, yes? They are just the prelude to the major tectonic shift occurring beneath our feet and the groundquakes that are coming. Every volcano on the continent, even the ones we long thought dormant, are set to erupt imminently, one already has. The resulting fallout and destruction will cause death on a scale that will drive us to extinction."

The smart one, Rodney or McKay, had grasped the meaning of her words, his eyes widening in horror. The others looked just as shocked, sharing a look between them.

"We have known this was coming for quite a while now," Dawn continued knowing that she was stepping into dangerous territory. "Ten years ago a Sana of the Domilitis University discovered the geological activity and calculated how long we had left. The Master Chief then put into effect the 'Ark Programme'. The most intelligent Sanas were set the task of finding a way for the Domilitis Colony to survive, and for the first time, we looked to the Void. There was nowhere on Solaris that would we could hide – leaving this planet seemed like the only viable option. We have since been developing ships that could launch into the Void, but all our attempts have ended in failure. Time is running out, and all hope seemed lost – but now you have arrived."

She looked pointedly at each of them, and Sheppard shifted uncomfortably. "Not that being shot and locked up isn't a powerful incentive…" he trailed off and shared a look with McKay who shrugged, and then changed his tune. "Tell you what, you let us go and we'll show you how the Stargate works. We'll even find you a nice planet for you and your people to relocate to, help you get sorted and all that – deal?"

Dawn felt a flutter of hope in her chest, but then she quickly crushed it. She knew she would never be able to convince her superiors to trust the foreign humans, especially not the General. She gave them a sad smile. "You would freely offer us aid when we are not only strangers, but aliens to you?"

All four of them nodded. "Then you have never experienced life on a world such as Solaris. We are a people hardened by our strong desire to survive in a barren world. There are too many of us and not enough resources to go around. As such we are a divided planet that hordes whatever scraps we can. We are constantly at war with each other to steal what we can for ourselves. We know nothing but greed and selfishness – an offer of help is an inevitable subterfuge. I will admit that I find myself believing your promise, but I can assure you, no one else will. Not until it is extracted from you under extreme duress at the very least."

The promise of torture did not go down well with the foreign humans. They seemed to do a lot of communication through expressions and gestures rather than words, she noted, as they once again shared a look. Sheppard met her gaze then, and suddenly she understood the power of non-verbal communication. She could read the sincerity in his eyes. "You could let us go right now; guide us to the gate. We'll take you with us."

Dawn shook her head, wishing she could do just that. "I cannot. We would be caught and I would be sent to the camps. It is better that they hear you and arrange an alliance with the Chief Master. It will not be pleasant but…"

Sheppard suddenly slammed his good hand against the glass in frustration, making Dawn jump back. She got the distinct impression that their conversation was over. She took another step away, but paused before she turned. "You should probably be told…we have been able to predict when the end will come with a relative degree of accuracy."

She looked down at her timepiece, and then turned her back to the foreign humans in the display case. "In forty-seven hours and twenty-seven minutes, this world will end."

And with that she left, wishing more than anything that she could have left the doors open behind her.

* * *

><p><strong>A lot of talking, I know, but it's all set up for what's coming! We're going to step back in time next chap to explain how the team got into this mess, and how Sheppard got shot :P I've also added a little glossary below of the Solarian terms I've used in case you're interested!<strong>

**Pretty please let me know what you think!**

* * *

><p><strong>Helpful Glossary of Solarian Terms:<strong>

**Sol'a – **Hello/Greetings (complete with hand gesture)  
><strong>Nu'hâlla – <strong>Holy crap/Oh my god/other equivalents  
><strong>Gra'hulli –<strong> Domilitis sport – think tennis but more violent with sharp pointy things and no rules  
>'<strong>Like the slaves''Sent to the camps' – **references to the slave camps where the lowest of the lowest classes are kept as labourers  
><strong>Sana – <strong>title equivalent to 'Doctor' – indicates graduates of the Domilitis University  
><strong>The Void<strong> – Space/Anywhere beyond the heights Solarian craft can currently reach

* * *

><p><strong>Oh, and just a little by the way - it's my birthday today! XD <strong>


	2. No Man's Land

**Stargate Atlantis -:- Endgame**

**Author's Note(s):**

Thanks for the great reviews (and the birthday messages!) They have (both) left me feeling all warm and fuzzy and have successfully dangled a carrot before my slacking muse – she's not used to writing quite this much… So super thanks again!

This chap, as promised, we return to the actual beginning (Next chap will bring us full circle) and then we get into the action. I should probably add that there will be some equal opportunity whumping around chapter four-ish, as I have been asked for some McKay-whump lol

But back to now – Enjoy chapter two!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two -:- No Man's Land<strong>

**EIGHT HOURS EARLIER: ATLANTIS  
><strong>**Colonel Carter's Office – 0900hours**

"We've had a problem with the latest shipment from the _Apollo_," Lt. Col. John Sheppard reported. He then shrugged, as if rethinking his words. "Depending on your point of view that is. The new batch of MALPs we were meant to be getting was accidently replaced with an additional shipment of rations…"

"What kind of rations?" it would be Rodney McKay that asked that one and Col. Samantha Carter rolled her eyes before gesturing for Sheppard to continue.

"Not coffee rations, if that's what you're getting at," John replied with a quirk of an eyebrow, and Rodney huffed irritably. Sam knew it would only get worse the closer he came to running out of caffeine – and then he would just be unbearable...well, more so. "But a whole bunch of MREs, which isn't going to be much help when it comes to exploring new planets."

Sam sighed, re-ordering the files in front of her so that her latest mission idea was pushed to the bottom. She guessed it would have to wait…again. "Well that puts a dampener on that part of the meeting," she muttered almost inaudibly to herself.

Rodney might have heard her though. "Wait, wait, wait. We've still got the MALP we actually managed to recover from M94-238, you know, the pigmy planet?"

"You mean the MALP the pigmy's decided was a sign of the devil or whatever and beat up with sharp pointy sticks…before proceeding to beat _us_ up with said sharp pointy sticks?" John retorted, the other eyebrow joining the first, making Sam smile at the memory. She remembered that mission vividly, and the post-mission debriefing that had devolved into a kindergarten brawl between Sheppard and McKay. Apparently they were both still sore over that one.

"Yes, _that_ one. How many pigmy planets have _you_ visited?" Rodney huffed, but didn't wait for an answer. "But that's beside the point. The MALP is in a usable condition. The camera received some serious damage so we won't be able to get a visual, but I should be able to get an atmospheric telemetry back to, you know, make sure we won't die on the other side or whatever."

"That's comforting," John muttered, clearly not at all comforted. "We still wouldn't know what we were stepping in to."

"We generally don't."

"You've got a point."

"I always do," Rodney then turned smugly to Sam, gesturing at the subtly buried mission outline. "So, what's that you've got there then?" Both Sam and John were giving Rodney an odd look then, and he glanced between them with a confused expression. "What?"

"You actually _want_ to go on an off-world mission?" John beat Sam to it, and she wondered how high those eyebrows could go. "Are you sure you're feeling alright? You're not possessed or anything?"

Only in the Pegasus galaxy would that be a viable reason for odd behaviour, Sam thought, shaking her head slightly. Then again, it hadn't been much different in the Milky Way. Rodney made his annoyed huffing noise then, a tinge of defensiveness working its way into his voice. "No, I'm not possessed and yes, I am feeling fine. I'm just fed up with doing supply runs where we never find anything interesting or potentially useful. Can't a guy just want to do his job without people looking at him all accusingly?"

"You're bored?" John replied. "You're living in the legendary city of the Ancients, a scientist's heaven, and you're _bored_? Never thought I'd hear that."

Rodney huffed again, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded. Sam decided to take the opportunity to answer his original question, and pulled out the folder, opening it in front of her. "I've found a planet in the Ancient database that I think might be worth a look. It's been on the 'to explore' list for a while now, and as the Wraith and the Replicators seem quite happy to occupy themselves for a while, it seems like a good time to go."

No one spoke during her brief pause, so she guessed it was safe to assume that she had their attention. "M98-472, or Solaris as the Ancient's called it. It's on the far side of the galaxy in close orbit to its system's sun. The database supplies quite a lengthy entry about the planet being used for several social science experiments…"

"You're saying it's an Ancient outpost?" John interrupted, making Rodney's eyes widen across the table. Obviously he was thinking of all the possibilities as she had when she had found it. There was a high chance there could be a ZPM there, as well as the possibility of defensive technology not found within the city.

"It seems most likely, yes," Sam replied. "And definitely worth a look."

* * *

><p><strong>The Gate Room – 1030hours<strong>

"Okay…let us see who will win this battle of wills…"

Rodney glared at the uncooperative piece of hardware currently irritating him; and then proceeded to attack…_ahem_…fix it with a pair of pliers. The wiring gave an encouraging spark, the indicator lights flickering momentarily, before dying again. Rodney gave it another hard stare. "I will tell you now, though. I _will_ be the victor…"

A loud snort of laughter sounded behind him, making Rodney jump. He smacked his head on a sticky-out bit of the MALP causing him to curse before he whirled on the perpetrator. It would be Sheppard, grinning at him like a kid with his arms crossed smugly. "Are you talking to the MALP?"

"No, I'm talking to the atmospheric sensor array that is attached to the MALP; there's a difference," Rodney retorted, accidently making Sheppard's grin wider. He half-expected the colonel to regress to childhood right then and there. "What? Botanists talk to their plants and you don't think that's strange! What's wrong with a scientist talking to a machine?"

"Well, it wasn't really the talking that got me," Sheppard smirked. "It was the fact that you seemed to be challenging it to a duel. Who's winning, dare I ask?"

Rodney rolled his eyes and made a mental note to only _think_ the machine-human conversations in future. He then successfully made the wire spark again, this time the indicator lights staying green. It was his turn to look smug as he straightened up again. "_I_ did."

A mechanical whir behind him let him know that a different part of the damned machine was not being graceful in its defeat. Sheppard took a few steps back as if to take himself out of range. "I think the MALP wants a rematch!"

Rodney watched Sheppard scarper up the stairs and into the control room before turning to take his annoyance out on the machine. He gave it a good kick, the sharp pain running up his leg reminding him that that probably wasn't a good idea. The MALP seemed to get the message though, the unresponsive part suddenly springing back to life. Rodney grinned triumphantly and then grabbed up the controller. "Dial the gate, MALP's ready to go through!"

He was busy focusing on the controller rather than the Stargate, but the slight rumble of the floor told him that Chuck had obliged, the symbols around the ring lighting up in sequence. He looked up as the massive _kawoosh_ settled back into the vertical pool, and then set the MALP on its course. Once certain that the machine's motors were indeed going to work long enough to get the MALP through the gate, he turned and followed the previously departed Sheppard. He grabbed the back of Chuck's chair and wheeled him out of the way to get access to the laptop. The gate tech was too used to the regular occurrence to take offence, keeping his tutting to a quiet minimum.

The rest of the team, Teyla and Ronon, were already there, along with Sam who was watching over his shoulder. She was the only other one there that would understand the data the MALP would send back – the rest of them wouldn't have the pretty moving pictures to tell them what was happening on the other side of the gate. "There we go. We're getting telemetry…whoa."

"Whoa, indeed," Sam muttered over his shoulder. Rodney could feel Sheppard's impatience, but decided not to fill him in. Sam went and burst his bubble instead. "Those are some serious energy spikes; maybe some of the Ancient tech leftover is still active. Is that EM interference?"

Rodney looked where Sam was pointing – _surely the woman could recognise EM when she saw…oh._ "I don't know…It could be a variation of the shield on the planet with the kids; if this is the outpost we think it is that would make sense….but that is…odd."

"Care to fill in the unenlightened?" Sheppard lost the patience he had cultivated as the two scientists babbled.

"We're picking up readings that aren't exactly normal," Sam clarified, and Rodney wondered if she realised just how far she had simplified it.

Sheppard raised his eyebrows at McKay with mock-serious accusation. "Did you break the MALP?"

"_No," _McKay stressed the syllable. "But the energy readings do suggest that there is definitely something worth checking out. Atmospheric readings say…that there is viable life support, although there are higher-than-normal concentrations of carbon dioxide in the air. It shouldn't be an issue, though we should probably back the SCBAs as a precaution."

Sam nodded in agreement, and then stood up straight. Down in the gate room the Stargate spluttered out of life. She smiled at the gathered team. "I guess we have a go then. Gear up and be ready for departure at 1130 hours."

* * *

><p><strong>SOLARIS STARGATE<br>****1130hours ALT (Atlantis Local Time)**

Stepping through a wormhole is disorientating; even after nearly four years of doing so on a regular basis. Though supposedly instantaneous, it doesn't feel that way. It's like being propelled through a tunnel so damn fast that the twists and turns become a dizzying, undecipherable mess, sending your head spinning. It's a wonder that John had managed not to stagger out the other end the first time he had made the trip from Earth.

But this time, the end of the journey felt distinctly odd. The first thing he noticed was a black, cloud-heavy sky, and then he had the sudden sensation of missing a step, an unexpected change in axis throwing him off-balance. He managed to right himself before he fell flat on his face though, and without a conscious thought caught Rodney by the vest when the scientist went through the same experience. Teyla and Ronon, being the stealthy ninjas they were, pulled off a similar stunt to John, covering the moment they tripped.

The Stargate was at an angle. It leaned back like a drunkard, looking skyward instead of forward. The wormhole winked out of existence the moment they were clear. The strange experience put John on alert, his P90 pressed into his shoulder as he scoped out their surroundings in the near-blackness of the night. They were in a trench or a crater of some sort, the walls of the hole surrounding them on all sides. A roll of barbed wire spread around the perimeter of the lip. John was not comfortable being stuck on the low ground, and judging by Ronon's rigid posture in the corner of his eye, he knew the Satedan was feeling the same.

Then there was movement. All of them, well, three of them at least, raised their weapons in the general direction of the flicker. Rodney followed suit a few seconds later, a strange look on his face. John didn't have the time to ponder what had caused it though, his focus entirely on the lip of the crater they found themselves in.

Something else moved, and wordlessly, the four of them split their aim between the two. John remained focused on the first, squinting to see in the darkness. His eyes had yet to fully adjust to the night after the brightness of the midday-sun on New Lantea. A few blinks solved the problem though, and he could soon see the dark outline of someone's head and shoulders – along with a long cylinder that was unmistakably a rifle. _Crap_.

Teyla passed him a look, obviously seeing what he had. It became apparent pretty quick that they were practically surrounded, although none of the strangers seemed to be too close to the gate. If this turned into a fire fight, it didn't take a genius to figure out that they wouldn't fare well. Maybe he should try some of that diplomacy he was _so_ good at.

Somewhat reluctantly, John took his left hand off of his P90, holding it up to show surrender. He lowered the gun slightly, not wanting to leave himself completely defenceless if this didn't work out as planned...not that that helped him in the slightest.

_CRACK._

_So much for that idea_. The impact threw him to the hard-packed ground – the force of the collision knocking the wind out of him. He was vaguely aware that all hell had broken loose around him, but John was a little preoccupied with the task of breathing at that point. Overhead he could make out shadows in the sky, the familiar _fwup-fwup-fwup_ of helicopter rotors reaching his ears. For a moment he thought he was back in the desert, unwelcome memories stealing his attention.

Then he was being hauled up by his TAC vest and set on unsteady feet. He gritted his teeth against the pain of the movement, forcing his focus back to reality. He had enough of his wits about him to realise that running was a good idea, and staggered up the incline behind the lifeless gate. The strong grip was still on his vest, keeping him upright when he lost his footing. It was Ronon who was holding onto him, still firing his pistol over his shoulder as they ran. Rodney ran ahead of them, his outline bobbing in and out of focus as he led them in a jagged line to avoid presenting themselves as even easier targets. Teyla was on their left and slightly behind them, pausing sporadically to fire bursts of her P90 to dissuade their attackers from following.

They were out in the open in unfamiliar terrain, the bullets of their pursuers whizzing dangerously close. A spotlight sudden beamed down nearby, the helicopter above them apparently not being a figment of John's imagination. "Find cover!"

Rodney heard his yell, continued onwards a few dozen yards, and then disappeared from sight. For a petrifying moment, John thought he had been hit, but then Ronon and he had caught up and he was shoved unceremoniously into a hole. The Satedan dropped down next to him, helping John sit up and lean against the wall, Teyla joining them seconds later.

So, they had switched out one hole for another, but hopefully it had brought them some time. John tried not to think about the fact that they were practically fish in a barrel. The lip of the crater shielded them a little from the spotlight, and from what he had seen of the terrain through pain-hazed vision there were plenty of other craters for their pursuers to search first.

Teyla seemed to have drawn the same conclusion and turned her attention to him. John knew his breathing was more erratic than it should be and he tried to figure out where he had been hit. He could feel something warm and wet both on his chest and his back. He bit his lip to get himself under control, and then took a look. A shoulder hit. _Could have been worse_. Their TAC vests weren't completely bullet proof; he was all too aware of that. A hit a few inches to right could easily have ended it for him. "That sucked."

Teyla had pulled a field dressing from her own vest and was currently unzipping his to get to the wound. His unclipped P90 had been put within arm's reach. Ronon had appointed himself the sentry and was keeping an eye on the sky and their surroundings, while Rodney was tucked against the wall opposite, still with that strange expression. "What part? The part where we got ambushed, the running for our lives bit or the fact that we are now completely stuck?"

John let out a hiss as Teyla wrapped the awkward wound, and she passed him an apologetic look. He managed a wry grin. "I was thinking of the part where I got shot."

Rodney actually looked a little contrite at that. "Right, that bit too."

"I can't tell how bad it is in this light," Teyla sounded irritable and just a touch concerned as she finished tying the bandage. "I think the bullet went all the way through, judging by the exit wound. We need to get him back to Atlantis."

"That's going to be difficult," John muttered, shifting slightly and instantly regretting it. "I don't think the nice gun-toting locals are really going to let us just walk back to the gate somehow."

"Actually, that's not the biggest problem," Rodney replied before Teyla could. "Didn't you notice? The Stargate was in the middle of a bomb crater. There was no DHD left even though the ring survived whatever explosion that took out the console. _We can't dial out_."

John let his head fall back against the crater wall. "Crap."

That explained the strange expression. Rodney must have seen the one-way ticket while they had been preoccupied with the locals. A jumper could solve the problem with ease, but they couldn't call for one. It would be at least another eight hours before Sam called them when they missed their check-in, and they couldn't sit there in the crater and wait. Their pursuers would catch up to them soon enough; and the four of them weren't exactly in a position to fight. In a word, they were completely _screwed_.

The expressions on the faces around him told John that they had all drawn the same conclusion. He closed his eyes. Now was the time when he was meant to come up with some brilliant plan that would get them all home safely. He was drawing a blank.

He felt the brightness of the spotlight on his eyelids, and he blinked them open again. Shouts and the echoes of booted feet sounded from the surface. They had already been found.

All three of them looked to John then, waiting for his decision. Surrender or run. Fight or flight. When it came down to it though, he didn't really have a choice.

Shadows fell across them then, several guns taking aim.

* * *

><p><strong>Woot! A next-day chapter! As always, please let me know what you think :P<strong>

**Also, quick note: SCBAs are Self-Contained Breathing Apparatuses, like what fire-fighters wear in case you are wondering. **


	3. Little Green Men

**Stargate Atlantis -:- Endgame**

**Author's Note(s):**

Hi! Sorry this update took a bit longer than usual – this chapter fought me the whole way for some reason. I think it's because it's a transitional chapter, and the fun action parts are in the next one. I'll try and be quicker next time!

Also, as usual, many, many, many, many (times a million) thanks to my reviewers, you keep me writing even when my muse buggers off! :P

But anyway; Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three -:- Little Green Men<strong>

**SOLARIS STARGATE  
><strong>**1140hours ALT (Atlantis Local Time)**

They weren't in the hole anymore; though that hadn't really improved their situation a great deal. Now they were surrounded on all sides by a platoon of armed, uniformed men, and judging by the grip on their weapons, they were incredibly twitchy. No one was actually shooting though, which John took to be a good thing – one bullet hole was more than enough as far as he was concerned.

His P90 had already been taken from him, and a couple of the nervous soldiers stepped forward to disarm the others. They didn't seem to be that concerned with doing a thorough search though – just taking the weapons they could see and then darting back as if the team would bite. It was small comfort to know that Teyla would still have the knife strapped to her calf, and Ronon still had his fully stocked PDA (Personal Dreadlock Armoury). They were stripped of their belt and vests though, the locals having the sense to recognise the tactical equipment.

All this happened in practical silence, only one-word commands being given by the one John assumed to be the highest ranking soldier there. He had an extra symbol on his uniform's lapel, although he seemed just as nervous as the foot soldiers. "Move."

John glanced at the others before doing as he was told. He didn't like their situation any more than they did, but at that moment he couldn't see a way to change it. They were outnumbered, unarmed, and in all honesty had nowhere to go even if they did by some miracle escape their captors. For now, at least, they had no choice but to follow the soldiers. He had already missed the small window for escape – John just hoped that that didn't come back to haunt him.

Now that he wasn't running for his life, John took the opportunity to take a closer look at their surroundings. It was still practically pitch black, no starlight able to break through the thick black clouds above. They didn't look like rainclouds though, and the air itself felt heavier somehow. He guessed that was the extra carbon-dioxide Rodney had picked up with the MALP – the SCBAs they had packed as a precaution had been taken along with the rest of their stuff. The most noticeable thing about the area though, was the sheer volume of holes and craters in the ground. It reminded John of pictures of No Man's Land from World War One. It wasn't a comforting comparison.

It didn't take long for them to reach the tilted Stargate and its non-existent DHD, but they were led passed it and up to a long line of barbed wire. The leader of their entourage gave a low whistle, and immediately a small section of the wire was pulled aside. A handful of the soldiers clambered through and disappeared down a ladder while the rest kept their weapons trained on the team. Ronon then went down first, followed by John as he just about managed to navigate the ladder one-handed. Once down in the hole he was shoved to one-side to allow the others room.

Finding himself in a wired-off trench just added to the image, the haunted eyes of young soldiers staring at them as they were led onwards again. The nervous glances and conspiratorial whispering was more than a little disconcerting as it constantly followed them. Mentally keeping a map of the geography, John pictured that they were being taken behind the front line, and away from the Stargate.

About halfway through a tunnel, the structure began to change. It shifted almost seamlessly from hastily dug and partly crumbling to bricked-up and supported. They were completely underground now, wooden beams lined horizontally above them to keep the ceiling in place. John didn't imagine Rodney's claustrophobia was dealing too well with the sloping tunnel, but figured a glance back to confirm would provoke their nervous entourage.

They entered into a cubed-shaped space that was full of activity that didn't cease despite their presence. Before John could get a closer look however, he was shoved down an identical tunnel at a right angle from the one they'd left. It was difficult to gage distance with no markers to work with, but John kept a count of how many of the cubed spaces they were hurried through on their way to…wherever they were going.

After what seemed like forever they were eventually herded into a small room with a nice glass box in the centre. It was at least different from their usual cells, he thought to himself, no gooey Wraith tech or zapping Ancient force fields. And he didn't get shoved in like he nearly always did – the local soldiers were still keeping a wary distance. Once inside, the glass door slid closed behind them, and the soldiers scarpered away quickly.

Understandably drained by the walk and the blood loss, John sat himself down on one of the courteously supplied benches. Rodney took residence on the one opposite while Ronon took to prowling like a caged animal, slamming a fist against the glass to test it. The glass didn't react in the slightest to the abuse, confirming John's suspicions that it was probably reinforced. To break the defiant silence that had settled upon them since they had been found, John smirked "Just once, I'd like to step through the gate and not end up incarcerated. Or shot."

Ronon continued to stalk the perimeter, Teyla watching him warily, knowing that the Satedan did not like being trapped. Rodney threw Sheppard a look, apparently all he could manage as he recovered from the walk, obviously liking the situation about as much as everyone else. John was attempting to be optimistic - at least they were together and alive; they would figure something out. They always did.

And then the ground shook violently. Ronon and Teyla were thrown off-balance but remained on their feet. Rodney startled, seconds away from throwing himself beneath the bench he sat on – he only refrained because no one else seemed to be doing so. The glass rattled in its supports as sand and dust rained down from the ceiling.

The tremor stopped less than a minute later, the structure having held around them. "Okay…what the hell was that?"

"That…that was a tremor…" Rodney replied, still keeping a white-knuckled grip on his bench. He then glared up at the ceiling with barely concealed fear. "…and we're in an underground bunker."

John caught on quickly, and judging by the looks he was receiving from Teyla and Ronon, they understood too. If a stronger tremor hit, they would be buried alive. This world seemed to be out to stamp out his optimism; their situation seeming to get worse with every passing moment. "Well, damn."

* * *

><p><strong>NORTH SOLARIS: DOMILITIS FRONT LINE<br>****48 Hours 30 Minutes and counting  
><strong>**[1200hours ALT] **

The tremor ended just as abruptly as it had started. As usual, everything came to a grinding halt as the ground shifted beneath them, but normalcy resumed immediately as if nothing had happened. The Solarians were far too used to the common occurrence to allow it to interrupt necessary tasks. For those in the know, the tremors simply served as reminders of the ticking clock above the planet's head.

General Pheta Calaren ignored the lower ranks that were fretting over the tactical map in the centre of the cubed-room, and disappeared down a corridor, a nervous Captain hovering at his elbow. Calaren couldn't recall the Captain's name, but he had been the officer that had reported the strange activity of the ring both times it had burst to life. He had captured the aliens for the Domilitian military and had taken them to the brig. Now if he would just stop invading the General's personal space, he could potentially earn himself a promotion. Not that he would have the chance to enjoy it.

They reached the brig without a word passing between them. The guards on duty snapped to attention at Calaren's arrival, but he didn't acknowledge them. As far as he was concerned they were cowards who had landed cushy jobs in the command nexus rather than serving with pride on the Front Line. They didn't deserve his attention.

He marched passed them, the Captain hot on his heels, and headed straight to the brig's outer door. Once inside he passed a critical eye over the aliens. They had all got to their feet at his arrival, eying him cautiously. They were intelligent, these aliens, that much was clear at least. They looked strong and well-fed as well, not like the majority of the Solaris population – even the rich had little more than the poor. The one closest to him was sporting a bloody bandage to his shoulder, though he allowed no pain to show in his features. "You have damaged one of them."

It was a statement; Calaren rarely asked a question. The Captain shied slightly at the accusatory tone, but managed to hold his ground. "I am sorry _shen,_ one of the men lost control during the first meeting. I have sent him to the camps as punishment."

A coward; and a stupid one at that. He would prefer to destroy the unknown rather than learn from it. He was deserving of the camps; some hard labour would teach him the value of patience. The aliens had shifted slightly, their eyes flicking between the general and the captain as if they were following the conversation. A smile barely lifted the corners of Calaren's mouth. "They can understand us."

"Yes _shen_, we believe so," the Captain replied, and the injured alien gave them a defiant look. "During the capture we kept communication to a minimum as instructed, but they understood and followed our commands. It…it unnerved the men _shen_."

This would make the interrogation a lot easier later. He had been wondering how he was going to question the aliens through a language barrier. "They have not spoken."

"Not a word _shen_."

Smart aliens. The hostile behaviour towards them hadn't been subtle, but they had figured out that trying to talk their way out at this stage was beyond pointless. Calaren just hoped that they stayed smart later. "Send for a medic, I want them all functioning once Sana Talyn has finished 'first contact' as she insists on calling it."

"Yes _shen_." The Captain seemed relieved for the dismissal and only just managed to stop himself from fleeing the room at speed. Calaren debated over whether it was him or the aliens that had unnerved the soldier so much. Judging by the glare he was receiving from the tall, long-haired alien, he figured it was them. It had been a long time since he had witnessed such defiance.

General Calaren gave each of the aliens a final look over, and then turned on his heel and left. Even if the aliens proved useless to their cause, Calaren knew that he would be able to spend his last two days having fun.

* * *

><p><strong>1240hours ALT <strong>

"It's alright," Teyla said gently. "Just leave the bag and go, I'll take care of him."

The Solarian medic's eyes grew impossibly wide; fear, awe and nervousness fighting for precedence on his face. The Captain had brought him by and had practically shoved the poor medic into the glass cell. The young man had landed in a heap, frighteningly close to where Teyla had been standing, the contents of the bag spilling across the ground. At Teyla's voice he had started, sending his superior a glance over his shoulder for consent. The Captain seemed just as surprised by her words, and gave the medic a nod.

They hadn't even waited for the door to completely close behind them before they'd scarpered. Teyla collected up the bag and took a seat next to John so that she could reach the wound. Rodney watched the Solarians go and scoffed. "You'd think they'd never seen other people before."

"They haven't," John replied, barely wincing as Teyla untied the field dressing that was already soaked through. Rodney cringed for him, able to see the ragged wound even from the other side of the cell. "The guy that was just here said that they were bringing someone in for 'first contact' – we're their equivalent of Little Green Men."

"Well, there's a pleasant thought," Rodney retorted sarcastically. He had seen the way the soldier had observed them like specimens in a jar; he didn't want to even consider what the man was thinking. Nothing good, that was for sure.

"'Little Green Men'?" Teyla asked uncertainly as she wrapped a clean bandage around the wound. John threw her a grin and Rodney could feel a movie reference coming.

"On Earth, the general consensus is that aliens and space travel don't exist, but there's a whole bunch of conspiracy nuts who believe that all aliens are little green men…like the Asgards really," John explained. His grin turned into a grimace as Teyla pulled the bandage too tight, but he didn't make a sound. "Like in that movie…"

"Asgards are grey," Ronon pointed out, effectively derailing the tangent Sheppard was about to lead them down. Rodney almost threw him a grateful look, but thought better of it when he saw the Satedan's impatient expression.

John gave a half-shrug, earning himself a glare from Teyla for jogging her. "Same difference."

"What do your people do when they come across these 'little green men' then?" Teyla asked as she found a sling trapped at the bottom of the medic's bag. John didn't look pleased by the discovery, but let her use it nonetheless.

Rodney sighed, glaring Sheppard down before he could make any 'anal probe' jokes. "What humans always do when they find anything new; we run a battery of…invasive… tests and experiments in order to learn as much as we can."

"You're planet's weird."

Rodney shrugged at Ronon's comment, and the four lapsed into silence. He suspected that they were all thinking of the possibility of experimentation _on top_ of interrogation and torture. Rodney almost wished that they had taken their chances with running as opposed to surrender. Going by the doubt playing across Sheppard's features, he suspected their team leader was having similar second thoughts – and _that_ was not comforting.

Then there came a noise from the door, and all of them climbed to their feet expectantly. A woman stepped into the room, mouth open, gaping at them like…well, like aliens. She was dark-skinned and dark-haired, of average height though slightly malnourished, and cladded out in a red uniform similar to that of the soldiers. She managed to recover herself and stepped up to the glass cell door.

This was Sana Dawn Talyn, as she eventually introduced herself. She then told them about Solaris' big problem, i.e. the end of the world. "Time is running out, and all hope seemed lost – but now you have arrived."

"Not that being shot and locked up isn't a powerful incentive…" John glanced over at Rodney, a question in his gaze. It was the same look he always gave him; the one that asked him to perform nothing short of a miracle with some piece of tech in an impossible time frame. This one was in reference to the non-existent DHD. Rodney shrugged non-committedly – he wouldn't know for _absolutely_ sure until he got back to the gate. John seemed to take that as a yes though. "Tell you what, you let us go and we'll show you how the Stargate works. We'll even find you a nice planet for you and your people to relocate to, help you get sorted and all that – deal?"

It really was their only bargaining chip – the Solarians needed their help, but Rodney wasn't even sure that they could give it to them. At this stage, he doubted that they could even help themselves – especially now that the end of the world was imminent and their chances of escape through the Stargate were minimal at best. And then there came the promise of torture – sure, they had already expected it, but the term 'under extreme duress' implied something a tad worse than their previous experiences.

Then Sheppard played their final card. "You could let us go right now; guide us to the gate. We'll take you with us."

For a brief moment, Rodney actually thought that John had gotten through to her, but Talyn then shook her head. When John then lost his patience and hit the glass, Rodney actually jumped. Even Teyla threw him a concerned look as Talyn got the message and backed off. But not before dropping one last bombshell on them:

"In forty-seven hours and twenty-seven minutes, this world will end."

* * *

><p><strong>NORTH SOLARIS: DOMILITIS FRONT LINE<br>****47 Hours 15 Minutes and counting  
><strong>**[1325hours ALT]**

In the command nexus on a sub level of the central cube section was General Calaren's office. It was neat; well, obsessively pristine would probably be a better description, with not a _scry_ out of place. He didn't have a desk, per se, but a table placed in the centre of the room, a tactical map of the area laid out across it. Behind that was the comm unit; the dialling device on the table top while the screen and camera were propped on a stand above it. Filling the screen was a similar set-up; a long table occupied by Sanas, politicians and generals alike; the Master Chief taking the head seat.

Sana Dawn Talyn stood next to General Calaren before the camera, feeling uncomfortable under the Master Chief's glare while her thoughts strayed to the foreign humans in the brig. She just about managed to bring herself back to the present as the conversation strayed into local territory – the general reports beforehand were tedious and irrelevant to the bigger issue as far as she was concerned.

"The Foramine forces have pulled out of their trenches," General Calaren reported. "We intercepted a communication ordering the troops to fall back and assist with the evacuation of their city following the eruption of Mt. Petera. We have claimed the mines as part of Domilitis."

"An empty victory," Dawn muttered without realising. Calaren fixed her with one of his stares that used to leave her shaking in fear. Now, when she had the end of the world to dread, the stare didn't work as effectively. She decided to finish her thought out loud…on purpose. "We have been fighting for these mines for nearly two years; and two years ago a victory here would potentially have helped us. But now we have less than two days left – there just isn't any time left to put the mineral to use."

The Master Chief studied her over the monitor, thoughtfully rubbing his chin, while the advisors he surrounded himself with looked at her with contempt. "You are right, Sana Talyn."

Dawn was pretty sure that the surprised expression on every man's face was mirrored on her own. The Master Chief smiled. "We are all aware that time is running out and that our contingency plan has not worked out as planned. However, I believe that some…guests…may be able to change our supposedly inevitable end?"

"I have made first contact with the f- the aliens, _shen_," Dawn bowed her head slightly to cover her slip. She doubted her opinion would be taken seriously if she revealed that they were simply foreigners as opposed to aliens. "They say that they came through the ring and that if we were to release them they would assist us in working the ring to evacuate our population."

Calaren gave her a sceptical smirk. "And you believe them."

"Yes, yes I do," Dawn replied. She thought of the foreign humans again, especially the sincerity of the one called Sheppard. This was the only way she could help them; all she could do was fight their corner and hope that her word counted for something. Judging by the incredulous looks she was getting, she doubted her word counted for anything. "They are not of Solaris; they are not like us or our enemies. I believe their offer of assistance is genuine."

The Master Chief shook his head slightly. "I never would have believed you capable of such naivety, Sana."

"It is not naivety, it is faith," Dawn answered back. Again, she received the taken-aback looks at her brashness – even she was surprised if she were honest – but she continued regardless. "We are so close to the end of all days as was augured in the scriptures even before we discovered the truth of those words. A salvation was promised there as well, and I believe that the aliens are just that. They are our last chance to save our people."

A silence followed her outburst. And then the Master Chief spoke. "I do not deny that there is some truth to your words, Sana, the aliens truly are our last chance. As such, I will not take a risk on some blind leap of faith and just take them at their word. General, you may proceed."

Calaren nodded, and the transmission ended. Dawn felt her heart sink, knowing that her last chance to help the foreign humans had just slipped through her fingers.

* * *

><p><strong>1400hours ALT<strong>

John knew that he was fast running out of options and chances. This mission had gone from bad to worse and back again, and he felt the small semblance of control he had being stolen away. He needed to figure a way out of this, and he needed to do so quickly – before the world started falling apart around them…nothing like a bit of pressure.

The next time the door opened, John was slower getting to his feet. He knew he wasn't in good shape, despite Teyla's best efforts. He felt tired, exhausted and defeated, but he managed to keep those emotions off of his face. His team was still relying on him – he couldn't even think of giving up yet.

About twenty soldiers squeezed into the room, surrounding the cell on all sides. The General who had come by earlier took residence at the door, Talyn hovering guiltily just behind him. She gave John an apologetic look, and he knew that things were about to get a whole lot worse.

* * *

><p><strong>Really randomly, I keep going to call McKay 'Rodders' and I have no idea why. I think it might be because the only other character called Rodney I know is the mouserat from **_**Flushed Away**_**. I just about managed to refrain lol**

**I'll try and write chapter four a little bit quicker! Please let me know what you think :P**

* * *

><p><strong>Helpful Glossary of Solarian Terms: (Part Two)<strong>

**Shen – **The equivalent of 'Sir/Ma'am'  
><strong>A Scry – <strong>A pen/pencil – writing equipment  
><strong>Master Chief – <strong>The title given to the leader of a colony  
><strong>The Scriptures – <strong>The Solarian religious script that predicted the end of the world, among other things


	4. Under Extreme Duress

**Stargate Atlantis -:- Endgame**

**Author's Note(s):**

Not quite the quick update I promised, but it didn't take as long as last time lol! As always, thanks to my super wonderful reviewers, glad you're liking this so far!

Oh, and special thanks to the Stargate wiki that I ended up totally plagiarising for an explanation about the Stargate (you'll see when you get there :P)

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four -:- Under Extreme Duress <strong>

**NORTH SOLARIS: DOMILITIS FRONT LINE  
><strong>**46 Hours 30 Minutes and counting  
><strong>**[1410hours ALT]**

All but Sheppard got handcuffed for the return journey through the underground complex – the fact that he had one arm trapped in a sling caused some logistical problems for the soldiers. Apparently they were being moved for the next part of this fun mission; and Rodney doubted that that was a good sign. The General and Talyn led their group through the monotonous tunnels, but instead of taking them back out to the trenches they were led to the far side of the facility and out onto a landing pad.

Rodney's heart sank. They were being taken _even further_ away from the Stargate – their chances of getting off this planet diminishing down to false hope.

"Now that's cool."

Rodney glared at the back of John's head for the completely inappropriate comment. The man must realise by now just how screwed they were, right? And then Rodney got a glance of what had caused the comment, and rolled his eyes. It was daylight now, the sun glinting off of the metal shell of what could best be described as Frankenstein's helicopter. It was pieced together from at least three different…things; the rotors mismatched and the doors not quite fitting their frames. It was big too; it could probably carry about twelve passengers as well as the two pilots who were already readying for take-off.

The soldier nearest Sheppard had jumped at his voice and looked just about ready to shoot something out of fright. Rodney threw John an exasperated look once they were next to each other in the wider space. Honestly, the man was a child. John just half-shrugged in reply, and then they were moving again…towards the contraption. As far as Rodney was concerned, it did not look airworthy, and he hesitated when it became unavoidably apparent that this was to be their mode of transportation to…wherever. "Are you are this is safe?"

The General glared at Rodney with contempt. There was a tense moment of the pair just staring at each other, before Sheppard managed to place himself in the middle. Ronon and Teyla were watching as well, ready for anything. Rodney was secretly pleased that this was his team. John gave the General an easy smile as if the man wasn't promising all sorts of pain with those eyes. "So…where are we going?"

It was Talyn who answered, and Rodney was actually glad that she was there. She hadn't been a whole bunch of help so far, but she seemed as if she genuinely wanted to fight their corner. At this point, they would take whatever ally they could get. "We are going to the main city to…"

"Let's not ruin the surprise, Sana," the General interrupted, but the expressions on both their faces had already finished the sentence. "All aboard, now."

What were the chances of them escaping now? Rodney asked himself. He could see the others scanning their surroundings carefully, trying to find that slim chance. But they were surrounded, cuffed, unarmed, and in all honesty more than a little screwed. Attempting an escape now would probably end with most, if not all, of them dead. So, the answer to his own question would be _nil_, then. The others came to the same conclusion and climbed into the helicopter, though their expressions told him that none of them were happy about it.

This was the last time Rodney McKay actually _wanted_ to go on a mission.

* * *

><p><strong>ATLANTIS<br>****Stargate Operations – 2000hours**

SGA-1 had missed its check-in.

That wasn't unusual, of course. It was quite often that off-world teams found themselves invited into some local custom that required their rapt attention and did not allow for slipping off to the gate to make a call. Nine times out of ten it was something totally benign that kept a team from making their check-in – and that was why the thirty minute protocol was in place, to prevent wasting resources on an accidently late check-in. Sometimes, however – that one time out of ten – it was something terrible that was keeping the team.

Colonel Samantha Carter had learned from her short time on Atlantis that it was usually SGA-1 that made up that 10%. Trouble seemed to follow Colonel Sheppard and his team; even a milk run could turn into a kidnap and ransom. That's why Sam _knew_ there was something wrong, even before Chuck stepped up to her office door and told her they were late.

She had followed the thirty minute protocol regardless; there was still a chance that nothing was wrong, despite the churning in her gut telling her otherwise. There was probably a hint of guilt to go with that instinct as well – it had been her idea to send them to the completely unexplored planet based on the readings of a malfunctioning MALP; and it would be her fault if they never came back.

She couldn't shake that thought despite her best efforts; the notion taking a life of its own once the seed was planted. Those thirty minutes had been the longest in her life – and that was including the ten years on a flagship gate team she'd experienced. There was something heavier about the weight of command that made time, people – everything really, feel as if they had taken Newton's law of gravity a little too seriously.

The moment the time limit was up, Sam dropped the tablet PC she had been pretending to use for paperwork and made the trip across to the control room where Chuck was already waiting. "Has there been any word from Colonel Sheppard's team?"

"No ma'am," Chuck replied formally.

Sam knew he would have told her immediately had the answer been any different, the question was simply a formality. She nodded to herself, chewing her lip a little. There was a still a chance that nothing was wrong. It was a chance she wouldn't take. Her gut was telling her that she had waited too long already. "Dial the gate and establish a radio link."

"Yes ma'am," he supplied automatically as rolled his chair to the dialling console and began entering the address from memory. Down in the gate room the Stargate rumbled to life, the blue lights chasing each other around the ring as the chevrons locked. Chuck pressed the central button; the lights catching up to him and then

Nothing happened.

No _kawoosh_. No torrent of exotic particles. No wormhole.

"What happened?" Sam asked, though she had a feeling she already knew the answer.

"The gate didn't lock ma'am."

Sam closed her eyes and took a breath. "Try it again."

Without a word, Chuck did as he was told. Once again the lights chased their tails around the ring, and once again the Stargate failed to lock. The same thing happened on the third, fourth and fifth try as well. Sam turned to the nearest laptop to scan the data it had collected from the failed attempts, her gut churning with a despondent 'I told you so'. The gate had failed to establish a lock because there was no gate for it to lock with at the dialled address.

The Stargate on Solaris no longer existed.

Sam tried not to think of the few possible scenarios where a naquedah gate could be destroyed, instead focusing on solving the problem. If they couldn't gate to Solaris, then they would have to fly there. "Has the _Apollo_ left yet?"

"Yes ma'am, it departed two hours ago."

"Call Colonel Ellis and recall them. Tell him he needs to head to Solaris."

* * *

><p><strong>SOUTH SOLARIS: DOMILITIS MAIN CITY<br>****38 Hours 00 Minutes and counting  
><strong>**[2240hours ALT]**

Ronon was going stir crazy.

He knew that that was the point, and the fact that it was working annoyed him greatly. After five hours of being trapped in a flying tin can the four of them had been separated and left to stew. Ronon had been wrestled into the small, white bricked, windowless box he now found himself in; earning himself a shiner in the process.

He was still cuffed – he wasn't sure if that was what was intended or if the soldiers had been too frightened to take the time to remove them. There was no furniture; just white brick as far as the eye could see (which wasn't far, given that the room was a two-by-two cell) and a reinforced metal door that wouldn't budge, no matter how many times Ronon tried to shoulder it open.

For a while he had paced. He was full of anger and tension; frustrated by their situation, and had needed to work it off. His shoulder was already turning a dark shade of purple from being used as a battering ram, and he suspected his right eye was a similar colour. When it became apparent that the small space was nowhere near big enough to effectively pace off the nervous energy however, he settled for leaning against the far wall, glaring at the door and waiting.

Whatever they had in store for him, he was ready.

It was three hours by his internal clock before the door eventually opened. Immediately he launched himself across the space, hammering his cuffed fists into the first soldier's face before kicking the second in the shins, and then throwing his knee under the man's chin. He was halfway out the door before the table's turned.

A bright bolt of…something…ploughed its way through every nerve in his body, sending sparks of light into his vision before it whited out. Ronon couldn't recall hitting the ground, nor the five minutes after that, the chemicals in his brain still trying to sort themselves out after the shock. That had been one helluva Taser.

When he had finally cleared his vision he found himself on a metal chair that had materialised from nowhere, his cuffs transferred to the spokes to keep him from escaping. He also found that he was no longer alone. The two soldiers he had got the drop on had been taken away, the door closed behind them, leaving only Ronon and the General. Calaren was studying him like a piece of meat, the smallest hints of a sadistic smile tugging at his severe features. "Impressive."

Ronon spat at him. The blob of spittle landed on the Calaren's lapel, and he brushed it off with a gloved hand. He then used the same hand to backhand Ronon across the face, burning his left cheek. Ronon just growled. If that was all the man had then this was going to be a doozey.

Calaren reared his arm back as if to strike again, but then seemed to think better of it. He retrieved a syringe full of a colourless liquid from a uniform pocket then held it up to the hanging light. Ronon eyed the vial warily – what was it? Some kind if truth serum? Or something more…creative? Calaren followed his gaze, the smile succeeding at completely twisting his face. Without a word, he plunged the needle practically bone deep into Ronon's arm, injecting its entire contents.

"We need information from you."

Ronon just about resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and settled for glaring instead. The empty syringe was dropped carelessly to the floor, the glass tinkling as it smashed. He was about to find out what was in it, a strange sensation already running up his arm as the liquid was pumped through his bloodstream. "This is pointless."

Calaren grinned. "Why? Do you think you are too tough to break?"

* * *

><p>"No, we're just not hiding anything."<p>

Sheppard answered, meeting Calaren's vindictive gaze with a stare of his own that promised payback. Calaren stepped back, quite a feat considering the size of the cell and his proximity to the wall, and studied him with that weird smile. John's arm still stung from the injection mere moments before, his mind already racing with the chemicals he had been warned of during his interrogation training. "Strangely, I do not believe you. We'll soon find out the truth though."

Calaren was waiting, John realised. No proper questions had been asked; just a few taunts and barbs being exchanged as whatever the mysterious liquid was made its way through his system. John wiggled his fingers when a sort of numbness suddenly spread along his right arm. The sensation spread quickly, working its way into every muscle and nerve, and then it abruptly changed into blinding pain. John tensed up automatically, gritting his teeth to keep from crying out. "What the hell have you done?"

His shoulder was the worst. The pain from the gunshot wound had dulled after several hours of just being there, but now it throbbed with an intensity a hundred times worse than it had when it had first happened. It felt as though it was on fire – though that was honestly an understatement. John had never felt anything like it – it didn't even compare to the Iratus bug clamping down on his neck four years ago, and _that_ had been pain worse that he had ever experienced.

"I cannot say that I understand the science of it," Calaren answered after a moment of just watching John suffer. "But I have been told that it is a drug that amplifies the sensation of pain. It attacks the nervous system of the body, translating every chemical signal into pain. Given a high enough dose, it can cause the victim to die from shock; but given in increments, it serves as a useful torture device. An existing wound suddenly feels like a fresh injury; a simple poke suddenly feels like an excruciating stab…"

As if to prove a point, Calaren simply prodded the throbbing wound, and John was rewarded with a fresh wave of agony. This time he couldn't help but cry out, and biting his lip to stop a scream made things worse. He gripped the sides of the metal chair with white knuckles, running through every method he knew of pain management. None of them seemed to be helping him much. Everything just _hurt_, and it hurt worse than he had ever thought possible.

"Now then, tell me how you arrived on this planet."

* * *

><p>"We came th-through the St-st-st-stargate."<p>

Rodney stammered out between clenched teeth, his voice hissing with pain. It had been a pinch, a damn _pinch_ that was it, and now he was singing like a canary. This was worse than the tiny cut it had taken for him to start talking to the Genii all those years ago when they had stormed the city, except that this pinch hurt a hell of a lot worse than that had. But then again, there really was nothing to gain from lying, all that Rodney would be telling them was what 98% of the Galaxy already knew – well, with a few added scientific things thrown in.

Calaren cocked his head to one side, examining Rodney like a side show exhibit. "What is this 'Stargate'?"

Rodney huffed, allowing his anger at the man's incompetence take over from the burning pain currently throbbing up his left arm. "The big metal ring in the middle of a giant crater on the other side of this godforsaken planet!"

Calaren nodded, surprisingly not taking offence at Rodney's tone – he had been half expecting another super-pinch for that one. The General paced behind Rodney's chair, completing a circle before standing before him again. There was another moment of just being stared at before Calaren must have decided that Rodney wasn't in enough pain as to guarantee truthfulness, and punched him _hard_ in the stomach.

Maybe that was revenge after all, Rodney thought as he doubled over, close to regurgitating his breakfast. He felt as if he had been run though with a red hot poker that was then twisted a little, just for fun. He didn't scream – he wouldn't give Calaren the satisfaction – but he did groan loudly before clenching his teeth again. He didn't make the mistake of biting his tongue, logic had already warned him that that wasn't wise. After a minute that truly felt like an eternity, Rodney shoved himself upright again, suppressing another groan.

Calaren had waited, simply watching him as Rodney had managed to pull off the stoic act he'd seen Sheppard, Ronon and Teyla pull off a thousand times. Calaren leaned down again to meet Rodney's eyes. "How does the 'Stargate' work?"

Rodney actually smirked – seriously, he'd been spending way too much time with Sheppard. "I doubt you'll grasp the subtle complexities of such advanced technology, but as you asked. The Stargate creates a stable, artificial wormhole between itself and another Stargate, allowing near-instantaneous travel from the dialling gate to the destination gate, but not vice versa. When activated, a Stargate produces a violent burst of energy known as an unstable vortex. This is due to the large amount of energy needed to form a stable wormhole, while keeping one open is much less power-intensive. The vortex settles into the event horizon which travellers then step through, dematerializing them for transport through the wormhole, to be reassembled on the other side. You get all that?"

Calaren actually growled as he backhanded Rodney across the face for his insolent tone. If it wasn't for the near-concussive state the blow sent him into, Rodney might have laughed. His attention was grabbed by the pretty lights and colours currently dancing before his eyes, just about distracting him from the indescribable pain rattling around his skull.

The General then backed off as if he regretted the action, pacing the two-by-two cell in front of Rodney. He stopped once McKay's eyes had refocused on the here and now, his voice taking on a dangerous tone. "Can we build a new one?"

Rodney blinked, unsure if the concussive effects had messed with his hearing. He suspected he knew the answer before he asked the question, but found himself talking anyway. "Wh-why would you n-need a new one? What's wr-wrong with the one y-you've got?"

"The Stargate has been destroyed…"

* * *

><p>"…a groundquake divided the earth and it was swallowed."<p>

John let his head drop to his chest, trying to control the despair that had suddenly gripped him. Sure, without a DHD their chances of escape by gate had been thin, but it had been there. There had been a chance that he could get his team home; now…now there was nothing. In a day and a half's time they would be trapped on this planet as it fell apart around them. The guilt of letting his team down outweighed the pain that still threatened to steal his consciousness.

Calaren grabbed his chin and lifted his head back up. "Is there another way off this planet?"

"No."

The General sighed heavily, letting go of John and stepping back again. "Then you will suffer the same fate as the rest of us."

* * *

><p><strong>36 Hours 50 Minutes and counting<br>****[2350hours ALT]**

Teyla stared at the door of her own cell, cultivating patience as she waited for someone to come for her. She had heard the shouts from the other cells even through the white brick walls, every pained cry chipping away at her reserves of strength. It frustrated her to be so helpless and trapped when she knew the rest of her team were being tortured; but there was nothing she could do. She briefly closed her eyes to banish the images of their suffering that flittered across her mind's eye.

She opened them again when there came a quiet click from the cell door.

Her eyes strayed to her leg and the knife that was still strapped there, but she decided to keep that secret for now. Instead she presented herself as the dignified and patient leader she was, and stood casually by the far wall, waiting for the door to open.

Sana Dawn Talyn entered; nervousness and guilt warring for precedence on her face. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, hands clasped in front of her. Teyla studied her warily, but did not read any malice in her behaviour. This was not her turn to be tortured then. Dawn took a readying breath "I am truly sorry for your treatment."

Teyla raised her eyebrows in disbelief, and Dawn averted her gaze. "My _treatment_ has been nothing compared to the rest of my friends. Tell me, why am I to be spared?"

"It is the way of my people," Dawn replied with a trace of long suffering annoyance in her tone. "There is the ingrain belief that women are incapable of being useful beyond breeding purposes. I am one of the few to achieve the status of Sana, and I can tell you that it was not easy." She paused as if realising she had taken a tangent. "The General does not believe that a woman can provide him with the information he seeks, and so, you have been spared."

Teyla nodded slowly, part of her sympathising with the woman while the rest of her was far too angry to care. "Why are you here?"

"You told me that you came through the ring, I thought it was best if I were the one to tell you that it has been destroyed," Dawn said apologetically. "If that was your only method of travel, I am afraid to tell you that your fate has been sealed along with ours."

Teyla felt the last dregs of hope she had been clinging to being ripped from her. She had the overwhelming urge to hit something, but just about managed to refrain. She did however let the anger lace her tone as she curtly replied "And what is to become of us? Are we to spend our final days in captivity serving as science experiments for your Sanas?"

"Nu'halla, I hope not…"

The rest of Dawn's words were stolen by a loud rumble that thrummed throughout them and the building. The ground shook violently beneath them, throwing both of them to the floor where Teyla instinctively grabbed Dawn and they huddled together protectively. The door rattled in its frame as dust and debris were dislodged from the ceiling and rained down upon them. The thuds and crashes of the building collapsing echoed all around them. Teyla was just about able to be heard over the din. "What is this? Another tremor?"

Suddenly the ground disappeared from beneath them, revealing that the cell had actually been on the first storey, though they were now dropped to the ground floor. Teyla and Dawn survived the fall with minimal injury, taking cover in a door frame as the rest of the building came down around them. Dawn stared at the sky that had become visible through an impromptu skylight. What should have been an oppressively hot, clear, sunny day was now a black dust cloud of smoke.

"This is no tremor. It's Mt. Optura."

* * *

><p><strong>Oh no! The world is ending! The building is collapsing! A volcano is erupting! The Stargate is gone! Will the Apollo make it in time, or will our heroes be trapped on Solaris until the very end? (Will they even get out of the building alive…?)<strong>

**Who knows! Let me know what you think, and I might just tell you next chap! :P **


	5. Hellfire

**Stargate Atlantis -:- Endgame**

**Author's Note(s):**

Thanks as always go to my wonderful reviewers – you are awesome just for taking the time to leave a comment and you make writing a real joy! :D

My schedule dictates that weekly updates are probably most likely from now on; I will try to update more often than that but I make no promises – please bare with me!

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five -:- Hellfire<strong>

**SOUTH SOLARIS: DOMILITIS CITY: FOOTHILLS OF Mt. OPTURA  
><strong>**36 Hours 35 Minutes and counting  
><strong>**[0005hours ALT]**

Mt. Optura has stood proud in the south of Solaris since a long time before the Domilitis colony claimed the land for themselves and built the grand city on its hills. The colony won the land after a campaign of nearly nine years – both sides stubbornly claiming the fertile volcanic land, one of the very few places on the continent where crops would actually grow. Things have changed a lot since that war nearly two hundred years prior, a great city surrounds the mountain base with smaller encampments encroaching up the hillside to take advantage of the soil.

Allyana was a resident of one of these camps. She was barely more than a girl, dressed in the threadbare rags the masters had so generously provided. She was a slave, working the fields until she lacked the strength to even stand.

Working on a volcano led to Allyana learning Optura's moods and behaviour; though she was less educated than the herds she knew more about Optura than the city's Sanas ever would. When she had awoken that morning to begin her day, she had already sensed Optura's anger that raged beneath the surface. The powerful mountain had already shaken the ground in a tantrum several times, as if warning Allyana and the others that their time was near. Not that they were able to heed such a warning, but Allyana appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

When Optura shook the ground violently enough to send everyone toppling, Allyana had looked up at the mountain's peak with resignation and the slightest hint of relief. As far as she was concerned, this was a mercy. Simply an end to a pointless and painful existence. Optura responded with a deafening boom that would be heard for miles, and spewed dark clouds of dust into the air.

The darkness was absolute in minutes. Though Allyana was sure that the sun still shone above them it could no longer be seen through the smog of blackness. The ground continued to shake constantly as Optura kept churning out the darkness. An orange glow fountained vaguely from the peak, and Allyana stared at it in wonder as she carefully climbed back to her feet.

She was oblivious to the chaos around her as the masters and the slaves battled for escape, running desperately down the mountain towards the faux safety of the city's walls. Allyana stayed however, burying her hoe into the ground to keep her standing as she waited for the blissful end.

Grey flakes began to fall from the dark clouds and Allyana held out a hand to catch them. Comparing her to a child seeing snow for the first time would have been an apt description; her eyes widening in wonder as the flakes settled around her. The flakes kept falling, heavier and heavier, coating everything in grey powder. Soon it became too dark and too thick to see, and finally Allyana felt the panic as well.

She had breathed in some of the flakes and now her throat felt thick and sludgy, every breath becoming harder and harder. Grey that had nothing to do with the flakes encroached the edges of her vision and she sagged against her supporting hoe. She tried to suck in more air as her body lost its meagre strength, but there was nothing but the flakes. Eventually she could simply breathe no more.

And that was the end of Allyana; a slave with no meaning nor purpose.

* * *

><p><strong>DOLMILITIS CITY: SOUTHERN MILITARY HQ<strong>

The building was surviving the groundquake very well considering the constant shuddering of its supports. Only a quarter of it had collapsed completely, the rest still standing, although it no longer resembled the grand architecture it had once been. Dawn stared up at the dark cloud through the hole in the roof, recognising the fallout of the volcanic eruption. She must have been in shock, or some sort of daze, because suddenly she was being shaken, her gaze dragged away from the black and back to the female foreign human.

"…are they? Where are the others! Tell me!" There was more than just a hint of panic in her voice.

The others? Dawn snapped back, realising that this was her chance to help. The foreign humans had no reason to die on this planet; they were not to be punished when they had done nothing but offered to help and had done no wrong. Maybe they could get free during the chaos and find a way to save them. But first they would have to find them. She glanced around them, trying to gain her bearings in a building she hardly recognised, and then climbed unsteadily to her feet. "This way!"

Teyla followed, both of them having to use their hands as well as their feet to navigate over the rubble as the ground continued to rumble beneath them. They had to take cover more than once when what was left of the first and second storeys rained down on them, making their progress slow. Eventually they came to what would once have passed for a staircase, and Dawn led them up, clinging to the handrail like a lifeline.

When they stepped out onto the first floor corridor they found that the entire left side was missing. Teyla and Dawn had been on that side when it had collapsed. Thankfully the floor above still at least partially existed, saving them from being crushed once they had survived the fall. The right hand side of the corridor was a series of doors, all identical to the cell door Teyla had been staring at not ten minutes earlier. Dawn led them down, counting the doors before she came to the one she wanted. Between the two of them, they managed to get it open. "Ronon!"

Teyla ran in, heedless of the ominous creaking of the ceiling and its promise of imminent collapse. Dawn eyed it warily, not daring to enter the small cell. Ronon was on the floor, still chained to the chair, his left hand trapped under the side and pain lining his face. Teyla unlocked the cuffs as she crouched beside him, leaning forward to place a hand on his shoulder. "Ronon? It is Teyla. Are you alright? Can you move?"

The large man nodded, though judging by his expression he was nowhere near alright. He gratefully accepted Teyla's hand up, clutching his own broken one to his chest. The ceiling gave another warning growl. "Quick! You need to move now!"

Teyla did as she was told and hurried Ronon out of the room and back out into the open corridor. The ceiling chose that time to give out, its collapse adding to the shaking of the ground, threatening to send them all toppling over the edge. Ronon was pale, perspiration dotting his forehead, so Teyla allowed him a moment, leaning him against the wall. She realised that the Satedan was in pain, but she thought it unusual for him to have reacted so strongly (for him) to it. She briefly wondered what the Solarians had done to him, before a particularly violent quake reminded her of their current situation. She turned on Dawn "Where are the others?"

Dawn looked around helplessly, trying to match the current geography with the layout she remembered and failing. More of the building had given in to gravity now, leaving a barely recognisable shell. "I…I am not sure…" she stammered out, and Teyla fixed her with a hard glare. "Maybe…this way?"

Logic dictated that they couldn't have been that far apart. Teyla had been able to hear them where she was being held, and Ronon had only been in the cell opposite; but the building had taken on a life of its own. It had twisted unnaturally leaving just a confusing maze behind. Dawn moved off again, very aware of the unstableness of the floor beneath their feet, Teyla and Ronon following behind. The corridor abruptly ended with a sudden drop-off, and Dawn had lost count of the doors. She had the horrible suspicion that the other half of the foreigners party had been in the cells a few more doors down, but she kept it to herself, instead shouldering open the last door with Teyla's help.

Dawn cursed once she saw that room she had found was not even a cell. It was an evidence locker, years' worth of confiscated goods strewn across the floor; thrown loose from their shelves. She could feel the frustration from her two companions radiating from them in waves. The building wouldn't last much longer, and soon Mt. Optura would get to the crescendo of her eruption. Already grey flakes were falling through the holes in the roof, dusting everything in the thick powder. They were running out of time, and Dawn highly doubted that these two would leave without the others.

But then Teyla stepped forward and crouched down, lifting a fallen shelf. Dawn came forward to help; Ronon not able to fit in the small space. Between them they managed to wrangle free some the equipment that had been taken from them during their capture. Teyla took two of the black vests; one of them with a large rectangular pack on the back, the belts and holsters still attached. She also grabbed Ronon's gun belt, the Satedan taking it from her gratefully; his expression telling them that there was some sentimental value to the weapon. Dawn was given one of the vests to wear so that they could keep their hands free and then they backed out into the ruined corridor.

The flakes had already coated the exposed corridor, making it even more dangerous to navigate. The air was thick with them, reducing visibility down to almost nil. Dawn pulled up the neck scarf of her uniform to make a filter, Teyla and Ronon following suit. Through the fabric the Satedan demanded "Where are they?"

Dawn took a step away, and gestured at the drop-off at the end of the corridor.

"Down there."

* * *

><p><strong>DOMILITIS CITY: THE MASTER CHIEF'S RESIDENCE<strong>

The Master Chief, Xarlon Dean, stared out of his window at the falling grey flakes. His home had withstood the groundquakes as he had recently renovated with the knowledge that the end was coming – this building would be the last to fall – befitting the title of the Master Chief's residence. He stilled himself against the panicked cries and screams of his people, instead looking over that chaos and up at the horrific beauty of Mt. Optura as she erupted.

A knock sounded from his office door, pulling him from his reverie. He turned to see his faithful assistant and occasional mistress standing nervously by the frame. Molina hesitated, looking past him and at the destruction outside, before snapping back to the reason she was there. "Your gyrocraft is ready for take-off now, Master."

"Excellent," Xarlon clapped his hands together happily, and Molina winced. "Any word from the General about our guests?"

Molina shook her head. "We have received no communication from the headquarters since the beginning of the groundquakes. All troops have been dispatched into the city to keep the peace, as you ordered, Master."

Xarlon was not greatly concerned. Ever since he had received the news that the ring the aliens had stepped through had been destroyed he had been quite certain that they would be of no use. There was only one escape left on this planet, and he was the only one who knew it – well, the only one that would still be alive when it came down to it. He gestured at a packed case by his desk. "Carry this, and follow."

"Yes, Master," Molina nodded and darted forward to do as she was told. She followed him out of the office and through the building until they reached the landing pad. They stepped out onto the balcony area that was shrouded in darkness and covered in the grey powder that crunched beneath their boots. The gyrocraft was already whirring to life, although the sound of its engines was stolen by the constant rumble of the ground and the screams of the people below. The spinning rotors kicked up the dust, making Molina cough behind the neck scarf she had pulled up. It stung her eyes and tasted foul even through the fabric.

She waited to one side as Xarlon stepped into the craft, one of his already evacuated advisors taking the heavy case from her and dragging it inside. Molina then made to step in herself, but the advisor kicked a booted foot against her shoulder, sending her spiralling to the ground and face-first into the thick dust. She heard the door slam closed behind her, and she scrabbled to her feet. She hammered a fist against the closed door "No! Wait! Take me with you!"

She was answered with a blast of air from the craft's engines that sent her flying again. As the pilot navigated the craft from the ground it whipped the flakes into a frenzy around it, forcing Molina to stay down as her one and only chance of escape took off.

After a minute or so of lying in the grey snow, she pushed herself up and onto her hands and knees choking through her scarf on the heavy air. She looked up at where the craft would have gone, but could see nothing more than a few inches before her face. She could not even see her hand when she held it up. The ground continued to shake; the people continued to scream; the world continued to end.

Molina rocked back onto her knees and let the tears of despair run down her cheeks, the moisture making rivers through the grey powder that covered her face. She should have known that she would be left behind, but she had allowed herself to hope; a cruel mistake that made her heart wrench in betrayal. The flakes were falling hard enough and thick enough to have half-buried her where she sat within seconds, but she made no attempt to move – there was just simply no point.

And then there came a loud crash and a bang; a bright light breaking through the palpable darkness. Even over the racket around her, Molina could make out the sounds of a gyrocraft's engines whining; its rotors chugging to stop – the whistle of a craft falling to the depths. A second explosion sounded, its rumble joining the ground's as the two collided in a satisfying twist of fate.

Molina looked up at the sky again, and smiled.

* * *

><p><strong>DOMILTIS CITY: SOUTHERN MILTARY HQ<strong>

When John awoke, all he was aware of was the pain.

He couldn't tell what hurt or why, he just came to the conclusion that it was everything. Reluctantly he blinked his eyes open to find himself looking at a pitch black sky, strange grey snow falling through a giant hole in the ceiling. Slowly, he tested various body parts to see what was and wasn't working. His shoulder still ached with a vengeance and a fresh pounding was sounding around his skull, but other than that he figured he'd made it through whatever had happened okay. He was covered in bruises that hurt far more than they should, but he blamed that on the pain-enhancing drug and moved on.

He was on the floor, but he was no longer chained to the metal chair. When the groundquake had hit and sent his cell tumbling down a storey the chair hadn't survived, his hands now cuffed to empty air. Bracing himself, John shoved himself onto his good elbow and scanned around him. He was surrounded by unrecognisable piles of rubble, now coated in a fresh dusting of the grey snow. Mysteriously there was now a window in his cell, but he suspected that was actually the wall of the ground floor he now found himself on. Judging by the large, jagged metal pipe protruding from the floor a few inches to his right, he guessed he was pretty lucky to still be alive.

With another groan and several complaints from multiple small-pretending-to-be-serious injuries he managed to get to his feet. The constant shaking of the ground coupled with the grey flakes warned John of the impending disaster of an erupting volcano. He had to find the others, and they had to get out of there. The fact that he had no idea _how_ they were going to do that didn't matter. One problem at a time.

Unsurprisingly, the door didn't open, but thankfully the dividing wall with the next room over no longer existed, so John just climbed over the rubble. He staggered a few times as what he hoped was a minor concussion played pretend at being worse and messed with his balance, but through blind denial and the power of positive thinking, he kept on moving.

He found the first body out in the corridor, though he didn't recognise it as such at first. The person, whoever it was, was covered in the same grey dust as everything else, blending it into the background. John moved on; there was nothing he could do.

He passed a few more before he found one that was still moving, and he dropped to a crouch beside it. In the near blackness of the corridor he could barely make out who it was – that was, until he spoke. "Wh…where are…you…going to…go?"

It was General Calaren, a massive lump of…something…pinning him from the chest down. Blood oozed from his lips, trailing dark rivulets in the grey dust. He was as good as dead, John knew, but he still found himself trying to work out a way of freeing him. He didn't know why; the guy had tortured him barely an hour before, but still John tried. "I don't know."

"There…there is a…place…where the…Master Chief…is going..." Calaren gasped out between stifled breaths, and John paused in his attempts to free the man – they were fruitless anyway. "It…will be…the last…to go…To the…East…Talyn…will know…"

"Why are you telling me this?" John couldn't help but ask. His tactical mind had already jumped five steps ahead, configuring this nugget of intel into the beginnings of a potential escape/rescue plan. Maybe there was a chance after all. A slim one.

Calaren gurgled on a mouthful of blood before answering. It was obvious he didn't have many breaths left. "Our fate…not yours."

And with that General Pheta Calaren was gone. John didn't hang about. He needed to find the others and get them to this place where they would have the most time. If they were lucky Carter would have recalled the _Apollo_ and sent Ellis to come and get them – if they could just stay alive until that happened, there was a chance to get off this cursed planet alive.

Both the quaking ground and his cock-eyed equilibrium were fighting his ability to stay upright, but John clambered onwards regardless. He hadn't known the layout even before the building had gone on an acid trip, so he didn't bother trying to find landmarks or things he remembered. He knew the others had to have been close to his cell; he had heard them when it had been their turn with the screwed up drug. The fact that his cell had dropped a floor was throwing this theory off a little though.

"Teyla! Ronon! McKay!" John yelled, almost choking on a lungful of grey flakes that the action earned him. Once the coughing subsided he tried again, and then again, until he finally heard a barely audible reply. It was hard to discern from the cacophony of sound around him, but he could just make out someone calling out his name. "Rodney?"

The call came again, and John changed direction, climbing over what was once a staircase and down into the remnants of a cell identical to his own. He caught sight of a grey figure trapped to a metal chair and half buried in rubble and doubled his efforts to reach him. "Rodney!"

John skidded to his knees next to the lump, ignoring the extra sensory pain response to the manoeuvre. With the arm he could still move he began pulling off the masonry and brick that covered the lower half of McKay, wincing when he caught sight of his leg. Something metallic impaled Rodney through his right thigh, black blood staining the immediate area. Thankfully it wasn't attached to anything so he wasn't trapped, but John knew that with the drug that had to be hurting like hell.

He freed Rodney's restraints and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Rodney? Can you hear me? Rodney? McKay!"

"Y-yeah…I h-hear ya…So d-does th-the other…side of the…pl-planet…" Rodney retorted through clenched teeth, and John found himself grinning in relief. If the astrophysicist was making bad jokes then he had to be alright. Or at least getting better at not being quite so over dramatic. Or a lot worse than he was admitting.

The ground gave another violent shudder then, and John leaned over Rodney to shield him from the debris it shook loose. Another reminded that they really should get out of there and find the others. John leaned back again, and then climbed over Rodney so that he could use his good shoulder to support him when he pulled him up. "We've got to move. Sorry."

McKay grumbled something under his breath that John didn't catch over the symphony of destruction around them. He then let out an all too audible groan as John yanked the scientist upright and then struggled to get them both to their feet. He slung Rodney's arm over his shoulder, grimacing when it struck the gunshot wound from eons ago, and then got them moving again. Rodney gave a small, understated whimper every time he put the slightest of weight on his right leg, and John silently praised him for his bravery. With the drug still pumping through him this exercise had to be excruciating.

"Teyla! Ronon!" John recommenced yelling once they were out of the cell. The ground was shifting more and more beneath them, almost flooring the pair of them several times. Things were getting worse. They had to get out of there now. "Teyla! Ronon! Come on!"

"John? John!"

John staggered to a stop, leaning Rodney against a wall as he looked behind him to where the familiar voice was coming from. Teyla appeared a second later, Ronon and Talyn close behind. The three of them were like grey ghosts in a world where everything was grey, and through his faux-concussed vision John could barely make them out. Rodney looked relieved for the pause, his pained breathing returning to a slightly more normal rhythm. As soon as the others were within earshot over the rumbling of the ground John said "We've got to get out of here, now!"

"There should still be a gyrocraft out on the landing pad – this way!" Talyn replied, immediately heading off in the direction she'd indicated. Without a word, Ronon and Teyla took over John's task of helping Rodney, each grabbing an arm and holding him between them. Apparently John looked about as good as he felt, and he gave them a grateful glance before following Talyn through the twisted maze of what remained of the structure. She called over her shoulder "I doubt there will be any flyers left though…it could be interesting flying the craft ourselves!"

"I'm a pilot! I can fly anything!" John called back over the increasing din. The groundshakes were getting more and more violent beneath them – this was more than just a volcanic eruption; it was as if the ground itself was being torn apart. Cracks began appearing in the floor underfoot, and John immediately doubled his pace.

Though it didn't take long, it felt like forever had passed before they made it out onto the landing pad. There was evidence of other craft having attempted to take off before: now only grey carcasses remained. This was going to be one helluva take-off.

As if by fate, there was just one of the Franken-choppers left, and Talyn ran straight for it, dragging the door open and then stepping aside to give them space. John climbed straight in and headed for the cockpit while Ronon and Teyla half-helped, half-dragged Rodney on board. Talyn climbed in last, slamming the door closed behind her.

John threw himself into the pilot's seat and then froze.

He didn't recognise anything. None of the controls looked familiar. There were absolutely no similarities to any craft he had ever flown. There weren't even any labels that he could get Talyn to translate. There was simply nothing. How the hell was he going to fly this thing?

The ominous sound of cracking reached them even over the quake and the eruption. Beneath the craft the earth was splitting; the fracture in the surface stemming from beneath the building. The gap was already wide enough there for most of the building to have fallen in. The planet was literally opening up and swallowing the city. In less than a minute, they would be swallowed as well.

"I th-thought you…said you could…fly anything…"

John whipped round at the voice to find Rodney watching him from the rear compartment. Teyla was already beginning first aid with the few supplies she had; all of them trusting him to somehow get them in the air. John turned back to the controls, desperately trying to figure out which button was 'go'. "I can, just…give me a few seconds."

The craft suddenly tilted to the right, a hole appearing underneath them. Time had run out.

John hit a switch; and prayed.

* * *

><p><strong>And that right there, is where I am leaving you. Please let me know what you think, even if it is just to tell me how evil I am :P<strong>

* * *

><p><strong><span>Helpful Glossary of Solarian Terms: Part Three<span>****  
><strong>**'than the herds' – **reference to the animals the Solarians cull, usually as a comparison to their low intelligence level  
><strong>Gyrocraft – <strong>the actual name of the Franken-choppers and the primary method of transportation


	6. Worst Case Scenario

**Stargate Atlantis -:- Endgame**

**Author's Note(s):**

I'M SORRY! After the end of the last chapter's cliff-hanger I had every intention of writing and updating quickly, but then Morrisons kidnapped me and chained me to a till up until Xmas eve and once I was finally released it was to the custody of my family where I was force fed until I exploded! There are _still_ leftovers! This Xmas thing is _ridiculous!_

Anyway, enough of my excuses. Thanks to my wonderful reviewers/readers/general nice people – my profuse apologies for making you wait! Let's get back to our team in the Franken-chopper, shall we?

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six -:- Worst Case Scenario<strong>

**SOUTH SOLARIS: DOMILITIS CITY  
><strong>**34 Hours 20 Minutes and counting  
><strong>**[0220hours ALT]**

The craft dropped, taking John's stomach with it in a horrifying rollercoaster ride.

The ground opened up beneath them like a gaping jaw, the Franken-chopper falling into the abyss. Every part of him wanted to panic, but experience had taught him that that wasn't conducive to actually fixing a situation. Instead in the split second after the craft had begun its descent he was focused on the control panel before him in all its alienistic glory.

They had barely dropped six feet before John had pulled off a miracle – a complete fluke that he couldn't repeat if he tried – the engine finally igniting, the too-slow _fwup-fwup-fwup_ of the rotors coming to life. They weren't saved yet, not by a long shot, but they weren't as completely screwed as they had been five seconds ago. They continued down into the crevice – further down that John would have liked, the intense heat of molten lava below invading the metal space, promising a quick death.

Finally the rotors got to speed and caught on the air. Finally they could start going to right way. John grabbed hold of what he had figured was the equivalent of a cyclic, attempting to steer the uncooperative craft into an upward climb. Begrudgingly, she obliged, pushing up and eventually out of the fissure and into the snowstorm of grey of the world above. Visibility was an issue.

"Talyn!" John found his voice after the tense moments of concentrative silence. He had shut out everything else, and even now as he threw a glance over his shoulder he was only vaguely aware of what was happening in the rear compartment. Teyla was looking after Rodney who was as white as a sheet, Ronon hovering nearby. Talyn's head snapped round at her name and she directed her way quickly into the co-pilots seat while John kept the craft in a hover. "I need you to navigate – are there any tall buildings I'm likely to crash into round here?"

Talyn squinted through the grey snow that clogged the windshield, but she sensibly gave up on the being able to see pretty quick. She instead turned to the instruments that John couldn't make rhyme nor reason of, indicating two that could have been an altitude indicator and a whacked-out compass. "We should head south out of the city – raise the height of the craft to 400cambles – that will take us above all the buildings."

John had no idea what a 'camble' was, but guessed it was their measurement of altitude. She helpfully pointed to the ideal height on the instrument when it became clear he couldn't understand their numbering system either, and he managed to convince the craft to do as she was told. They rose higher into the grey storm and then manoeuvred in the direction Talyn had suggested.

They flew in silence for a few minutes, all of them expecting something to loom out of the grey and smash into them, but for the first time that day, luck was on their side. Talyn leaned forward and gestured at what could potentially have been a GPS – a really, _really_ weird GPS. A dot fixed in the centre had crossed the line of the map moving beneath it, and Talyn made a small sound – somewhere between a relieved sigh and a mournful whimper. Her home had just been destroyed. John wondered if she had had any family and whether she had just lost them as well. She was about to lose her whole world.

She regained her composure quickly, turning away for a millisecond before she trusted her voice to speak. "We have left Domilitis now. That was the city line we just crossed."

"Great. So we survived _one_ volcano on a planet that's about to be destroyed," Rodney seemed to have recovered somewhat. Teyla had finished dressing the wound and was now attempting to move on to Ronon and his broken hand. They both threw Rodney an exasperated look, but John could see that they felt the same way. "I'm sorry for stating the damn obvious, but there's no Stargate and no other way off of this planet. Just where in the hell are we going to go?"

The adrenaline that had been keeping John going through the whole 'prison-escape- and-daring-take-off' chose at that moment to leave him, and it took everything he had not to just collapse over the control panel in front of him. Thankfully, Talyn answered for him. "We should head to the East. My people have predicted, quite accurately, the rate and order in which our world will end. There is a plain in the Virai desert that we have determined will be the last place to be destroyed. That is where we built our Ark Programme facility. It will buy us some time."

"Time for what?" Rodney continued to be his usual negative self, and John felt the last dregs of his patience disappear with what was left of his energy. He tried to glare at the scientist, but Rodney was looking at Talyn and missed it completely. "What part of 'no way off of this planet' did you not understand? Unless you're hiding a space worthy craft, which I highly doubt by the way, we are still completely screwed! Sooner or later we are going to run out of places on this planet for us to run to!"

"Rodney," it was meant to be his usual irritated shout, but John just didn't have the strength for that. Maybe McKay caught the edge to the tone though, because he did shut up. "There's still a chance. When Carter couldn't dial the gate she would have sent the _Apollo_ to come get us."

"That's assuming that she didn't dial the gate early and then sent a team through when she couldn't make radio contact and is now waiting on them to make their check-in, which they won't because they're probably dead but Sam still waited and then she realised the gate had been destroyed and the _Apollo_ has already left so she had to recall it which means it will take more than three days to reach us and that's if it left Atlantis more than four hours ago, in which case we're still screwed because guess what, we don't have three days. We barely have one."

John knew Rodney was a fatalist, but damn he was laying on the pessimism today.

"Actually, we have thirty-four hours, so technically you have more than one day." Talyn pointed out, consulting her time piece. Rodney threw a successful glare her way and she shied away with a contrite expression.

John closed his eyes for a second, and then opened them again with an exhausted sigh. "Let's call your worst case scenario Plan B and stick with blind optimism and the chance of survival as Plan A, alright?"

"But even if…"

John held up a hand to cut Rodney off. He was tired, in pain and running on the slim hope that there was still a slight chance that he could get his team home. Rodney poking gaping holes in his positivity right now was not in any way helpful. He couldn't give up yet, not when they were relying on him like this. John instead turned to Talyn "If I show you how, you can fly this thing right?"

Talyn smirked. "I will try and ignore the irony of an alien teaching me how to use my own technology."

"Don't expect any cool tricks, I'm not even 100% sure how to land," John replied, he ignored Rodney's _tsk_ from behind them and returned his waning attention back to the controls. "I've set us in the right direction; all you've literally got to do is fly us in a straight line. Actually, I think that's all we can do."

"I think I understand, but where are you going?"

"I am going to lie down before I fall down," John pushed himself out of the pilot's chair, ignoring the fact that the Franken-chopper lurched and spun around him at the movement. Teyla was eyeing him in that concerned way she always did, putting herself within easy reach if the act of moving from the front to the back proved too difficult.

He made it to the bench that ran down the right side of the craft, a myriad of injuries making themselves known. His shoulder throbbed in agony, his skull felt like it had been cracked open and every muscle in his body ached with a vengeance. The damned drug was still in his system, amplifying every painful sensation. He was beyond exhausted.

He was out before he hit the bench.

* * *

><p><strong>THE<strong>_** APOLLO: **_**FLIGHT DECK  
><strong>**28 Hours 45 Minutes and counting  
><strong>**[0755hours ALT]**

"We should arrive within thirty-six hours, Colonel."

Colonel Ellis reported to his counterpart back on Atlantis. Samantha Carter didn't look overly enthused by this news though, the crystal clear image of her on the screen in front of him showing him in high definition her worry that that simply wouldn't be fast enough. Ellis tried to mask his annoyance; he had already tasked his engineer with pushing the hyperdrive to maximum, but without an Asgard on board there was little they could do. He never thought he would miss the little grey men.

"I would appreciate knowing what it is I'm flying into," Ellis continued, not quite achieving the mask over his annoyance he had aimed for. He wasn't a part of the Atlantis Expedition, and as such he didn't have to follow Carter's orders. It annoyed him how often he and Caldwell were collared into performing missions and rescue operations for Atlantis regardless.

Carter had picked up on the tone, and responded in kind with a clipped, professional response. Yep, he'd pissed her off. "We have been unable to gather any intel considering that the Stargate on the planet is either no longer connected to the network or no longer exists. At this stage, only a ship can reach them, otherwise I wouldn't have asked for your assistance."

"Understood, Colonel," Ellis replied formally. Carter was giving him the stare down she'd developed from years of being a woman in a man's world. It was no wonder that she had gotten as far as she had. She looked away for a moment, as if considering her words, and then turned back to the screen.

"SGA-1 is now twelve hours overdue and have been offworld for nearly twenty," Carter stood at ease, her hands clasped loosely behind her back as if giving a report. "They were sent to M98-472, or Solaris as the database called it, as an exploratory mission following the possibility that the planet may once have been an Ancient outpost. We were no longer able to establish a wormhole to the planet's gate eight hours after SGA-1's departure, and we believe it is safe to assume that they can't dial out. Right now, the _Apollo_ is there only way home."

Ellis nodded, having the decency to look a little contrite. Carter was simply doing whatever she could to get her people home; in her position, Ellis didn't know what else he would do. "Our ETA is 2000hours tomorrow Atlantis Local Time, we'll check-in every six hours. _Apollo_ out."

* * *

><p><strong>SOLARIS AIRSPACE: SOMEWHERE ABOVE THE EASTERN VIRAI PLAINS<br>****28 Hours 10 Minutes and counting  
><strong>**[0830hours ALT]**

Teyla gently stroked John's unruly hair as she knelt beside him, careful to avoid the fresh cut above his right brow. He was asleep still, as he had been since he'd handed over control and all but collapsed here six hours ago. She had felt like a mother hen as she had re-dressed his shoulder and cleaned new wounds, all the while reassured by the gentle rise and fall of his chest. With a small smile at his peaceful features she climbed to her feet and made her way towards the cockpit.

On her way she passed Rodney and Ronon, both of whom had fallen asleep as well. She paused to check on them both, concerned to see the bandage on Rodney's leg already soaked through with blood. The metal shrapnel that had pierced his thigh was still trapped there, Teyla fearing that removing it would only cause more damage, the field dressing wrapped around it to keep it still. He needed medical attention, but considering that there was a strong chance they would never leave this planet, Teyla had neglected to tell him that.

It worried her that Ronon had fallen asleep. In the two years she had worked with him she had never seen him willingly sleep when they were offworld. Maybe it was his experience as a Runner that had taught him not to unless he knew he was safe. Part of her was glad he was out though; it was the only way she was allowed to treat his broken hand – before he had kept shrugging her off and telling her to look after someone else. He had been in pain, she had seen it on his face, but nothing would keep the Satedan from being dangerously stoic.

Once again she rose and gave the three men a final look until she was satisfied that, for now at least, they were okay. She then ducked into the cockpit and took her place in the co-pilots seat. Grey no longer filled the windshield and Teyla found herself looking in wonder at the red sands below. Great dunes rose from the plains like mountains, nothing but sand everywhere as far as the eye could see. A giant orb hung oppressively in the sky, blasting their flying tin can with heat and making Teyla's ash-caked clothes stick uncomfortably to her.

"We should arrive soon," Dawn Talyn broke the silence of the space, the sudden sound making Teyla jump. She had become accustomed to the constant reassurance of the rotors sound and the engine's hum; her thoughts in rhythm with the machine. She just nodded in response, not trusting her unused voice. Dawn gestured behind them "Your friends are of strong will, considering."

Teyla furrowed her brow. "Considering what?"

Dawn looked awkward and ashamed for a moment as she shifted in her seat. "As part of the…questioning…they would have been given _doloricin_. It is a drug that the military Sana's developed to make torture more…economical. It amplifies the sensation of pain so that all injuries feel ten times worse than they are in reality…"

"What?" Teyla almost leapt out of her seat in anger, but realised that she had no one to aim it at. What the hell kind of people come up with something like that? She looked back at her teammates, cataloguing their injuries and then applying the effects of the drug. It was no wonder that they were uncharacteristically allowing the pain to show – they should have been screaming in agony! John's shoulder, Ronon's hand, Rodney's leg…

Dawn was watching Teyla's reaction cautiously, waiting for the right moment to speak again. "The fact that they are now unconscious is a good sign. When they awaken the drug will have worn off – the exhaustion is a side effect that protects the body and mind from being fatally overwhelmed. I must admit that I have never witnessed a victim of _doloricin_ function as well as they."

It took Teyla a moment to reply, her mind still tripping on what she had been told. "They…they are strong."

Dawn nodded, and then turned her attention back to the instruments and then the windshield. Teyla just sank back into her seat, still fuming over the ill-treatment of her teammates. It was difficult to feel remorse for the people of Solaris. At first, Teyla had been sympathetic; she had lost her own home world of Athos to the Wraith four years prior and even now she felt the loss as fresh. But these people seemed to care very little for each other like the Athosians did, and seemed content to hasten their own destruction.

"We are not all bad people, Teyla," Dawn muttered quietly, as if reading her thoughts. "As a whole we are greedy, ambitious, self-centred and prejudiced, I will not deny that. But I assure that there are exceptions to every rule. Back there, at home, there were people worth saving, people who had never hurt another soul or done anything more than survive in a world where only the strong prevail. Those were the people I wanted to save. They were the legacy of Solaris that I wanted to preserve."

Teyla looked away as a single tear carved a river in the ash on Dawn's cheek, and when she looked back only a smudge remained. Shame filled Teyla for a moment; she was too quick to judge the people of an entire planet based on the sample of a select few. An example of the good of this world sat beside her, a lone woman witnessing her world's destruction as she tried to save four complete strangers. "I am sorry."

"Don't be." Dawn gave her a weak smile and a quick glance before turning away. "There has been little hope for my people for a very long time. I am taking you to the last of it."

"The Ark Programme?"

"Yes. We developed it as a method to evacuate the select few that we could to a new world somewhere out there in the Void. But only the people of Domilitis of course," Dawn added scornfully as if it left a bad taste in her mouth. "When I was at the University I was laughed at because I was one of the very few who took the studies on the Void, little did they know that it was going to make me indispensible. We knew that the Virai plains would be the last to go and so we built the facility there so that people would have time to evacuate. We have built eight prototype craft over the last ten years, but not a single one has succeeded."

"Your technology is still impressive," Teyla replied. "Where I come from our advancements have been limited by the presence of the Wraith."

"The Wraith?"

Teyla smiled, an old memory resurfacing. "Four years ago, Colonel Sheppard came to my planet. He did not know of the Wraith either. I told him that if they had not touched his world then he should return there for there are monsters in this galaxy. The Wraith cultivate worlds like farms, allowing the population to grow and then they come in their ships and cull their human herds leaving only enough to start the process again," she paused, watching the horror on Dawn's features, and then gave a small shrug. "However, having seen both his world and yours I fear that the Wraith may have been our salvation. On your worlds, with no common enemy to fight, you have turned on each other. I had not known of war among humans before I met John, but now I see it wherever the Wraith have not touched."

The two women lapsed into silence after that, leaving only the constant rumble of the craft to fill the quiet. Through the windshield the red dunes continued to pass by, the shadows they cast getting longer and longer as the sun began to lower on the horizon.

"Are we there yet?"

Once again, Teyla jumped out of her skin, and then threw the culprit lurking at her shoulder an irritated glare. Ronon just grinned back, looking much happier now that the drug had worn off. A broken hand still had to hurt like hell, but the Satedan seemed to just shrug it off – a sure sign that he was fine. "Nearly."

"Actually, we are here," Dawn corrected, pointing through the screen at a red bricked building that had magically appeared between two dunes. It was practically camouflaged, surrounded by nothing but sand, but its straight lined structure gave it away. "You should wake your flyer; I have no idea how to land."

Ronon gave a nod, and then disappeared back into the rear compartment. Teyla gave Dawn a smile before following suit, pausing to check on Rodney again as she knelt beside the low bench. The scientist was still fast asleep, but it was not peaceful. His breathing was coming in shorter gasps as sweat began to form on his brow. Teyla placed a hand on his forehead to find that he was running a temperature. He was getting worse.

"Alright! I'm up! I'm up!" Teyla glanced over her shoulder to see a pleased Ronon prodding an uncooperative John into consciousness; the process taking significantly longer than it would have done under normal circumstances. Ronon hauled John to his feet and guided his unbalanced form into the cockpit where he took over from Dawn and began the task of landing the alien craft.

As the craft began its descent, Teyla turned her attention back to Rodney and set about changing the bandage and re-cleaning the wound. She suspected it was the metal shrapnel that was causing the infection but she still doubted her ability to remove it without making things worse. She wasn't a doctor or a healer, but had made sure she knew enough to patch up her friends long enough to get them to someone who was. But looking at Rodney now, she feared that what she knew would not be enough.

An abrupt crash sent her to the floor as the craft connected with what was hopefully the landing pad. As she picked herself up she saw John give her an apologetic look from the cockpit. Around her the noise of the engine winding down and the rotors slowing almost masked the sound of voices coming from outside. Ronon was instantly on alert, his blaster in his hand as he headed toward the cabin door. Teyla drew her sidearm from her reclaimed holster and in the cockpit John was taking his from the vest Dawn had been given. She was trying to look out the windshield to see who it was.

Suddenly the door was slammed open, revealing a handful of men standing outside. At the sight of the armed strangers they whipped out their rifles and had the passengers of the Franken-chopper at gunpoint in seconds. "Who are you? What have you done with the Master Chief? What colony are you from?"

Behind where Teyla knelt, a foggy Rodney was coming to. He just had to add to the massive influx of questions.

"What the hell is going on?"

* * *

><p><strong>I finally updated! Teehee! Hope you have enjoyed and forgiven me for my incredible tardiness enough for you to leave a nice review – tis the season of good will and all :P <strong>


	7. Two By Two

**Stargate Atlantis -:- Endgame**

**Author's Note(s):**

I am still alive! At one point I did vaguely promise weekly updates, but as proven, that didn't quite work out as planned :P Thanks for sticking with me despite my massive update gaps and as always, super thanks for reading/reviewing etc. etc. you are all totally awesome!

Anyway, back to the story! Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven -:- Two by Two<strong>

**ATLANTIS: STARGATE OPERATIONS  
><strong>**22 Hours 40 Minutes and counting  
><strong>**[1400hours ALT]**

"Thank you Colonel, Atlantis out."

Sam Carter resisted the overwhelming urge to hit something as the screen winked out of life before her. All around her the Atlantis technicians were secretly watching her while pretending to do their jobs, having eavesdropped on the conversation between her and the _Apollo_. Ellis and his crew were on schedule, were actually even slightly ahead – but that just didn't feel fast enough for her.

She didn't know what she had been expecting; but as the countdown for the first check-in had come up she had, for the briefest of moments, felt a swell of hope. Maybe some incredibly unrealistic part of her had expected some miracle where the _Apollo_ had broken all the rules of hyperspace travel and had magically already arrived. Maybe she had anticipated that the ever-resourceful SGA-1 had found themselves a sub-space radio and had checked-in with the ship. Maybe she had just been wishing for something to alleviate the guilt piled on her shoulders.

After taking a moment to control her expression, Sam turned and gave the awaiting crew a reassuring nod, and then all but fled – in a calm and professional manner – to her office at the other end of the floating walkway. Once behind her desk she did her upmost to find something to occupy her mind and its rampant negativity.

She felt completely helpless, trapped in Atlantis while those under her orders were missing in action somewhere on the other side of the galaxy. All she could do was wait – something she had never been all that good at – and pray that one of her first achievements in Pegasus hadn't been to sentence her flagship team to purgatory.

* * *

><p><strong>SOLARIS: THE ARK FACILITY<br>****27 Hours 10 Minutes and counting  
><strong>**[0930hours ALT]**

"Anyone else getting a strong sense of déjà vu?"

Sheppard asked the room, or the cell, as they now found themselves in. They were in another six-by-six glass box, identical in every way to the one they had occupied just the day before. Once the Franken-chopper had landed the local Solarians hadn't actually waited for the answers to their multiple questions, and despite Talyn's protests the team had quickly been muscled into their shiny new display case. Every now and again a uniformed Solarian would pass by to have a good stare at the fascinating aliens like lab samples. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

No one had decided to justify John's comment with an answer so he decided to join in with the silence and leaned back against the glass wall. The six hour nap on the chopper had done very little to alleviate his exhaustion; he suspected he'd sleep for a week once they got home – which they would – but at least now the damn drug had run its course and left him with just the actual amount of pain he was in.

Now that things had stopped being an imminent fight for survival, at least for a while, John took a good look at his team. Despite the broken hand, it was clear that Ronon was fine and perfectly capable of fighting one-handed if the necessity arose. By the way he was pacing it was apparent he hadn't given up yet either. If there was a way out of this they weren't going to find it locked up in here and Ronon was itching to get out and find it. Teyla had fared well during the collapse of Domilitis, only sporting a few small cuts and bruises now that hadn't been there before. She was far more anxious about Rodney, and looking at him now, John shared her concern.

He was out cold again, the fever from the infection overwhelming him. Even from his distance John knew that it was bad, but while they were trapped in there with no supplies of any kind, there was absolutely nothing they could do. Thankfully Teyla had had the chance to at least change the dressing before their incarceration; but that was like putting a bandaid on a bullet wound – it was nowhere near enough.

"We need to get out of here," Teyla voiced his thoughts as if she had been privy to them. She threw him a concerned look over her shoulder. There was expectation in her eyes, as if John would somehow manage to magic them a key to the cell, but there was understanding there as well. She knew as well as he did that what she was asking was currently impossible, and it frustrated her just as much as well.

By the door/glass wall that served as one, Ronon doubled his pacing efforts as if boring a hole in the floor would provide their much needed escape. Under normal circumstances, John would have joined in, but he was simply too tired. Instead he watched, silently cheering the Satedan on like he was watching the most boring spectator sport ever.

What they really needed however, was a way home. There was no doubt in John's mind that Colonel Carter had sent the _Apollo_ to come and get them. He knew and trusted that she felt as strongly as he did about never leaving a man behind, and she would use every resource that she could to find a way to bring them home. That wasn't the problem. The issue was time; or more specifically the complete lack of it. They had managed to buy some by getting there, but Rodney's fatalism had more than likely been right – it wasn't enough. What John needed was a way to buy them some more. He _needed_ Rodney to be alright, because he needed his genius sidekick to help him come up with a way to buy that time and get them home.

Unconsciously, John let his head fall back and hit the glass with a thump. Teyla glanced over, just catching the defeated expression on his face before it was hidden behind his mask. He was all too aware of what he needed, but he couldn't see a way to get it.

He couldn't get them home.

* * *

><p>"Tell me what happened, Dawn."<p>

She looked up at the use of her first name to meet her brother's eyes. It was unusual, to say the least, for him to do so. Sana Lance Talyn had always kept their public relationship as formal as possible; it had been the only way for him to help her get to the level that she was in their patriarchal society. But now he was looking at her the way he did when they were at home, and she felt the carefully constructed wall she had created crumble and a day's worth of emotion come pouring out. Before she knew it, tears were falling down her cheeks. "Domilitis is gone, Lance. Mother, Papa…everyone…they are all…gone…"

Dawn saw Lance subtly bite his lip as if keeping his own emotions in check, and then he laid a hand on her shoulder. "I warned you, Dawn. You always knew that this would happen. They were never on the evacuation list – we were always going to have to leave them behind."

In a flare of anger she brushed his hand of her shoulder. "There is a difference between knowing something and seeing it happen before your eyes! I was there! I felt the terror and the imminence of the end just as surely as they did! I thought…I thought I was going to…"

He pulled her into a hug then, muffling her last word against his shoulder. They stood like that for a moment, her sobs echoing around the small office Lance had pulled her into. He just held her as he waited for her to regain the control she had fought for as she had watched her home burn. After a few minutes the sobs subsided and she pulled back, taking a deep, steadying breath. Then he asked the question that had clearly been playing on his mind since he had opened the gyrocraft doors to find four complete strangers. "Where is the Master Chief?"

Dawn gave him a curious look. She had been expecting him to ask about the aliens, but he had had an odd glint in his eye as he had asked the odd question. She shrugged, pulling away slightly "I do not know. We took the last gyrocraft at the Military headquarters; I imagine that if the Master Chief was able to escape he would have arrived before us."

Lance pulled away then, terror apparent on his features before he managed to hide it. He took several steps away from her and then began pacing beside the far wall of the office. She watched him for a moment, startled by the odd behaviour. "What is it, brother?"

He stopped in his tracks, as if only just remembering that she was there. He then pasted on an unconvincing smile, still keeping his distance. "It is nothing, Sana," he was back to the formality, any traces of the brother she needed right then gone in an instant. His eyes darted around the room as if searching for a safe subject. "Tell me about the aliens."

"They are not truly aliens," Dawn replied, allowing the subject change despite his strange behaviour. This might be her only chance to help them, and she wasn't going to waste it. "They are simply humans from other worlds. They came to Solaris as peaceful explorers but since their arrival they have been treated with nothing but ill intentions. They do not deserve to share our fate. They are injured and tired and simply looking for a way home…"

"How did they get here?" Lance interrupted, the fear in his expression replaced by something else that Dawn couldn't quite identify.

"They came through the ring that was unearthed up by the Foramine tunnels," Dawn answered uncertainly. "But the ring was destroyed when Mt. Petera erupted in the North…"

"That doesn't matter!" Lance gave an almost jovial shout, before regaining his composure. Dawn watched him cautiously, not even trying to conceal the fearful concern on her face. Her brother had been the lead Sana of the Ark Programme for the last ten years and as such had had to deal with their planet's imminent destruction for quite some time. Maybe this close to the end the pressure was finally getting to him. A smile closer to a manic grin split his face, his intelligent eyes calculating several steps ahead.

"Take me to the aliens."

* * *

><p>Ronon did not like the man currently staring at him.<p>

He was clearly related to Dawn; his skin and hair was the same colour as all of the Solarian people they had thus far met, but he shared her particular eyes and face shape. He was older than her, premature lines creasing his eyes and forehead and the peppering of grey tinting his hair. He was studying Ronon like all the other spectators had before him, but there was something different in his eyes that set the Satedan on edge. He had the expression of a desperate man; and desperate men were dangerous.

"Err…" Dawn hesitated in the corner of Ronon's vision, but he didn't take his glare off of the man currently sizing him up like a piece of meat. "Lance, this is Colonel Sheppard, Teyla, Ronon and Dr McKay. And this is my brother, Sana Lance Talyn; chief of the Ark Programme."

"It is nice to meet you," Teyla said from behind Ronon's shoulder; ever the picture of diplomatic pleasantry. Sheppard had purposely placed himself in his line of sight having recognised the stand-off currently occurring between the two men. McKay was still unconscious and lying on the bench behind them. The edges of Lance's mouth twitched in response to Teyla's greeting, not a trace of surprise from her apparent use of their language.

After a tense while of awkward silence, Sheppard cut right to the heart of the matter. "What do you want?"

That broke the eye contact. Lance turned his gaze on Sheppard and after a brief moment to congratulate himself on a staring contest well played, Ronon returned his full attention to the exchange.

"I have decided to grant you asylum, in exchange for your assistance," Lance replied. Dawn flashed him a surprised, then confused, expression, but he ignored her and kept his attention on Sheppard. Ronon wasn't entirely convinced that he wanted asylum on a planet imminently doomed, but he left the negotiation to those far better at it than him. "Your friend will receive proper medical treatment immediately, and you will come with me."

Lance stood back from the glass door that seemed to open at his silent command, gesturing at two soldiers that had been standing back during the short talk. Sheppard threw Teyla and Ronon a look before standing aside and allowing the soldiers to take McKay away on a litter that seemed to have materialised from nowhere. He looked just as surprised as Ronon did by the sudden turn of events. Lance turned to his sister and gestured at them. "Take those two to the guest quarters. Colonel Sheppard, is it? How would you like a tour?"

Once again, Sheppard threw a look over his shoulder before he stepped out of the cell and followed Lance out of the room. Teyla, Ronon and Dawn stood there for a brief moment before he broke the silence. "What just happened?"

Dawn shrugged, staring after her absent brother. "I have no idea."

* * *

><p>"Okay, not that I don't appreciate the sudden change of heart…"<p>

"Do you know about the Ark Programme?" Lance cut John off as he pushed through a set of double doors. John nodded, and then stumbled to a stop when he saw what was on the other side of the door. They opened out onto a metal walkway suspended way off the ground in a huge cavern-like space. Below them was a strange, mutant craft, seemingly typical of Solarian design. "We have been trying for over a decade to create a Void worthy craft before our planet is destroyed. That…that was our last chance."

John leaned over the railing of the walkway to get a better look at the craft. The shape was vaguely familiar, almost like a space shuttle but with some pretty vital parts missing. It kind of looked like a demented version of a Thunderbird; the yellow one that went underwater. He sincerely doubted its credentials as a spacecraft, but kept that thought to himself. "'Was'?"

Lance nodded coming to stand beside him, uncomfortably placing himself on the side of his injured arm. John twisted slightly to set himself in a better position. He didn't trust the man about as far as he could throw him (which, considering his shoulder, wasn't far in the slightest). "Yes, that is the top secret Ninth prototype Voidcraft that not even Dawn knows about. It has yet to be tested; its construction only just completed. However, she will never fly. The Master Chief was paranoid that we would leave without him and as such he kept the power source in his possession at all times. When you arrived we thought for sure that you were him and that we were saved."

"Sorry to disappoint," John replied without a hint of sincerity. Lance didn't seem to notice the sarcasm, instead staring almost dreamily at the craft below. "I still don't understand what you expect us to be able to do about it."

"You came through the ring."

"Yes, the ring that has been destroyed," John explained as if he were talking to a two-year-old. Lance flashed him a look of annoyance, and then continued walking along the bridge without looking back to see if John were following. "What do you want from us?"

"We lied when we told Dawn and the others the reason for building this facility here." Lance reached another set of doors at the other end of the walkway, but this time he had to stop and enter a security code before he barged through. "We don't actually know what part of the planet will be the last to go; the Virai plains could be destroyed at any time. We built this facility here because of what we found underneath the desert sands."

John wasn't that sure he liked where this was heading. The thought that they hadn't brought themselves any time at all was disconcerting, but this place seemed stable enough for now, and he had no idea where they could possibly run to next. He followed Lance down several flights of stairs until they entered a room at the very bottom of the Solarian built facility. Once again he found himself frozen when he saw something heart-warmingly familiar.

An odd buzz raised the hairs on the back of his neck, the way it always did when he was near Ancient tech. Living in their city it often grew too normal for him to notice but after its absence of seemingly forever he felt the sensation anew. Before him stood a small, distinctly Ancient construct – literally the size of a closet – the wall facing them embedded with a door and a control panel. John almost laughed. It seemed like so long ago that they had been sent through the gate to investigate an Ancient outpost; it was an ironic twist that it might turn out to be their redemption. "A transporter."

Lance was grinning at him as he watched his reaction, clearly pleased that John recognised the technology. He pulled out a cylindrical object from inside his uniform and with a click of a button a beam of light cut through the semi darkness of the chamber. He gestured at the waiting doors with it. "We call it 'the Wardrobe' due to its size. Come."

He waved his hand over the control panel and the doors obliged, sliding open to reveal a small room with a touch screen on the back wall. The map was unfamiliar, and yet still similar to those in Atlantis. John followed Lance into the transporter and watched as he selected a dot on the screen. There was the short white flash of light, and the doors opened out into the Ancient facility.

"You've known about this the entire time?" John asked in disbelief as he stepped out into a room similar to Stargate Operations back home. As when he had first stepped through the gate and into Atlantis the lights starting flickering to life.

"We have known, yes, but we have never taken the time to understand," Lance replied, his gaze flicking from the lights to Sheppard and back again, the torch forgotten in his hand. "And, we have never been able to get most of the artefacts to work. We have never even managed to turn the lights on before. Amazing."

John shifted uncomfortably under the freshly studious gaze he was now pinned with. It was a creepier version of the glare McKay had given him when he had first sat in the chair in Antarctica. "Yes, well, a lot of the tech requires the ATA gene to activate it. But you have no idea what that is…err…"

"We found this place about fifty years ago while we were digging for water," Lance finally dragged his eyes off of John and stared at the newly illuminated treasure trove. "We found symbols that we matched back to the Scriptures and for a while this was a place of worship for those rich enough to know about it. But then we went to war with the Kleptons of the East and this place was forgotten. It wasn't until we realised that the Scriptures were true when they spoke of our inevitable end that we decided to investigate further. Ultimately what we found was a menagerie of strange objects that we couldn't identify or use. But I knew that this place was important, so I forged the timeline and convinced the Master Chief to build the facility here. I do love it when I am right."

John ignored that last comment. "What about the Stargate? The ring?"

"I have always known that that was a lost cause," Lance replied smugly, again walking off without paying heed to John. "We found reference to the Ring and its supposed interplanetary ability; however I disbelieved such a thing was possible until the Ring was unearthed during a bombing run not long ago. It quickly became apparent that it no longer had a dialling device though, so we abandoned it and focused on the Voidcraft. A mistake, I guess."

"Right, well, this is great and everything, but I still don't get what it is you want," John was losing his patience with the tour.

Lance smiled over his shoulder at him, and then came to a stop before yet another door. "You came through the Ring, you recognise the technology, and you are a flyer. As such I have concluded that you should be able to fly one of these."

He waved his hand over the door control to reveal the holy grail of Ancient tech.

A Jumper bay – complete with Jumpers.

* * *

><p><strong>Oh my God, I actually ended a chapter on a positive note! It seems that the team now has a chance of survival after all, isn't that good news? I wonder how long that will last… Please let me know what you think!<strong>

**Now, as always, I am an opportunist. I do, however, usually wait until I finish a fic before I plug a new one, but I might end up (at least trying) to write two fics simultaneously…could be disastrous, but we'll give it a go. Anyway, time to advertise the highly demanded and (hopefully) eagerly awaited sequel to my fic **_**the Collective**_**!**

_**The Vendetta**_

**Summary: **The race is on to find the real culprit behind the attempted destruction of Atlantis and prevent them from trying again…but with our boys Earth-side, who is left to protect Atlantis?

**Setting/Pairings: **Continuation of the Collective, so late season five with added Sheyla (though that is not the focus)

**Genre/Rating: **Suspense/Action/Adventure/Hurt/Comfort/Angst/Most likely whump all around cause I'm mean like that/T to be safe

**I am about to start writing chapter one so it could potentially be uploaded relatively soon! See you then (or for the next chap of this fic…whichever comes first lol)**


	8. Salvation

**Stargate Atlantis -:- Endgame**

**Author's Note(s):**

Okay, so far I am juggling the two fics quite well – I was worried that if I started _the Vendetta_ then _Endgame_ would get put on my hiatus list – but so far so good *touch wood* Thanks go to everyone who has read and/or reviewed this fic – and double thanks to those doing so to both :P I live for feedback so super thanks for feeding my ego lol

Anyway, onto this fic: our team is still stuck in the Ark facility on the doomed planet, the Apollo is en route but is going to be ridiculously late, Rodney's not doing so good – but it's okay: Sheppard's got a hangar full of Jumpers…

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight -:- Salvation<strong>

**SOLARIS: THE ARK FACILITY  
><strong>**24 Hours 40 Minutes and counting  
><strong>**[1100hours ALT]**

"I knew it couldn't be that easy."

"Is there a problem?" Lance was immediately by John's shoulder, following his line of sight as if he actually understood the Ancient tech. John resisted the urge to shove him away and lecture him about personal space.

"Several. Where would you like me to start?" John channelled his inner-Rodney, even to the point of using the click-and-point hand gestures. He was glad that the astrophysicist wasn't there to see. "There are eight Jumpers here, and all of them have problems. Only two have power, three are missing drive pods, one's damaged beyond all recognition and I can tell you for definite that that gaping hole right there makes that Jumper incredibly un-space worthy." John pointed at the Jumper's in turn taking his prognosis mainly from his connection with Ancient tech and common sense rather than any in-depth knowledge.

Lance had watched the rant with a strange expression of confused awe, and for a few moments after, he did nothing but stare. Then he blinked slowly. "And what does that mean?"

"In a nutshell, I really hope that you were telling the truth about helping Rodney, or no one is getting off this planet." As it stood, they would be lucky if they could get one Jumper working, meaning that the thirty-or-so people, that he had so far seen, were not likely to get a seat. For now, John was just pleased to have a way to save his team – if it came to a toss-up between the Solarians or them; the team would win every time. He decided to keep that little nugget to himself though, instead watching Lance's reaction to see whether or not he was right to have trusted the man with his resident genius. "Where is he?"

Lance smiled then, and John wasn't sure if it was that that creeped him out, or just Lance. "Then there is nothing to worry about. Sana McKay will be as good as new around about…" he checked his time piece "…oh, now. Shall we go?"

John hid his reaction to the miraculous time frame of the recovery, putting that down to what he knew of the planet. These people were in a constant state of war, and Earth history showed that that was when the most medical process was made. The Solarians were probably decades ahead of them in that respect. "What about the rest of my team?"

"They will be fine with my sister for now," Lance shrugged, leaving the sentence a little too ambiguous for John's liking. He didn't push the issue though and just followed the Solarian back to the transporter and up into the Ark Facility.

* * *

><p>"What's going on?" Ronon demanded forcefully, pacing the length of what he considered to be their new cell. They were in what Lance had called the guest quarters; a tastefully decorated, comfortable space. Ronon just saw it as a prison with throw-pillows.<p>

Dawn watched him warily, like a tamer trapped in the lion's cage. She kept herself a careful distance away, not sure if he was frustrated by her or the situation. She felt almost as if she were a captive too, her brother's sudden decision leaving her in the dark while she essentially babysat the aliens. She glanced over at Teyla who stood by the panorama window, her posture tense although she was doing all she could to appear casual. Through the glass there was a grand view in to the hangar below, where Dawn had seen the Ninth for the first time. What other secrets had her brother been keeping from her?

"Why did he only take Sheppard? Where's McKay? What are you people up to?" Ronon continued, glaring at her as he spoke. Teyla made no move to calm him, and Dawn suspected that she was thinking the exact same questions.

"I-I do not know…" Dawn replied with a nervous shrug. "I do not know where they have gone, or what my brother was thinking…I did not even know of that craft…I…" she trailed off, concern, fear and an odd sense of betrayal making her doubt herself. Ronon gave her another glare for her lack of useful input. "I do know that my brother promised to help Dr McKay, so he will be fine very soon."

"Oh, you 'know' that, do you?" Ronon was clearly reaching the end of his tether, the stoic silence she had observed of his behaviour seeming to disintegrate into outward frustration. He paused in his pacing, simply taking a step towards her. "How? How do you know that he didn't just say that to get Sheppard to co-operate? How do you know that they don't just have McKay locked up somewhere else? You don't seem to know much, so why do you know that?"

Teyla was staring at him now, her expression somewhere between totally agreeing with him and surprise at his use of several consecutive complete sentences. Dawn staggered a step back, holding up her hands defensively. She much preferred the silent treatment to this. "Th-there is no reason why he would not help."

"There is no reason why he would." Ronon countered without missing a beat. He then resumed pacing, effectively ending the conversation. Dawn looked to Teyla for help, but the Athosian simply turned to look out the window.

Suddenly Dawn felt very alone.

* * *

><p><strong>THE <strong>_**APOLLO**_**: FLIGHT DECK  
><strong>**16 Hours 40 Minutes and counting**

"We are still twenty-four hours out, sir," Major Samson, the ship's pilot, reported from Ellis' left. "The hyperdrive is at maximum output and all unnecessary systems have been shut down to improve efficiency. Engineering reports that this is our top possible speed."

Ellis nodded, knowing that he was pushing his ship miles beyond her limits. The massive achievement of gaining the speed with which they currently carved through the void seemed belittled though, and Ellis felt a stab of irritation. He knew that when he made his check-in with Atlantis Colonel Carter would give him the same, disappointed expression she had the last time. Part of him understood, and he did not envy her position, but he did not appreciate the slight accusation in her eyes as if it were his fault he was held back by the laws of physics. But this was not the time for that, and he cleared the notion from both his face and tone. "Get Atlantis on the horn."

"Yes sir," Samson replied automatically, and a few moments later the consoles and gate techs of Atlantis' Stargate Operations room materialised on the screen before them. And then Colonel Carter appeared.

"_Have you received any word from Colonel Sheppard, yet?"_ she immediately asked, any and all formality forgotten. There was a tiny glimmer of false hope in her eyes, but she remained as outwardly professional as she could.

"Not yet, colonel," Ellis replied, watching the light fade. No, he definitely did not envy her position. "And we are still twenty-four hours out from their last known position at best possible speed."

Carter looked away from a second, and Ellis felt the slight irritance double into outright annoyance. Before he could say anything however, Carter looked back to the screen and spoke. _"You are making good time, colonel. You're crew must be working very hard."_ She paused again, as if looking for the rights words. _"Thank you for doing this, Abe."_

There was the recognition he had been silently craving. Instantly, he felt terrible for all the petty thoughts he had had – almost as if he had been forced to eat the words that in all honesty, he had never verbalised. He gave a short nod in acknowledgment, and received a half-smile in reply. "We'll check-in again in six hours, colonel. _Apollo_ out."

Ellis stood from his chair once the transmission ended and then turned to Samson. "I'll be in Engineering, send for me the moment anything changes."

"Yes sir."

Maybe it was about time that he put that Mechanical Engineering degree to good use.

* * *

><p><strong>SOLARIS: THE ARK FACILITY<br>****23 Hours 10 Minutes and counting**

"Are you sure you're alright, McKay?" Sheppard asked…_again_.

Rodney didn't even bother to look up this time, his attention entirely on his recently reclaimed tablet PC from his confiscated vest Lance had thoughtfully returned. The pair of them were in the most-likely-to-ever-fly Jumper's cockpit, Lance hovering uncomfortably close. Rodney could feel John's eyes boring into the back of his head. Jesus, it was like the man had never seen medical voodoo before. "Yes, John, I'm fine."

To be honest, he had found it incredibly disorientating to go from a fever induced haze to waking up in some strange medical facility, a barely visible scar in the place a metal pole had occupied mere hours before, but he had bigger things to think about now – like their one and only ticket off this ticking time bomb. The Jumpers were not in good condition, and anyone without his level of genius and skill would never be able to get any of them off the ground. But he was Dr Rodney McKay, and pulling of scientific miracles in a ridiculous time limit was his speciality.

Sheppard was still hovering. In his peripheral vision Rodney could see him passing Lance a wary glance. He couldn't say he blamed him, the Solarian scientist was creeping him out as well. There was just something about him that just wasn't quite right. Rodney continued to stab at the touch screen, occasionally pulling out a crystal as he worked. "So, where are Ronon and Teyla?"

"They are safe."

Rodney caught the distrustful expression on Sheppard's face from Lance's reply and caught on to the status quo pretty quickly. It wasn't an outright hostage situation, but he knew that it wouldn't take much.

"Can you fix these machines?" Lance asked, changing the subject after the short, tense silence.

McKay snorted indignantly. "Can I _fix_…? There's not a chance in hell that at least six of them will ever fly; this one has no inertial dampeners or life support and the power to the left drive pod is intermittent at best and the other has no auxiliary systems or communications and might I point out the massive hull breach on the right side which is_ very bad_." He paused for a second at Lance's clueless expression. "Wait – do you even know that space is a vacuum? As in, horrible, painful death?"

Lance was doing that awed/confused stare again, and Sheppard helpfully decided to translate. "He can get one to fly by cannibalising parts from the others. Maybe."

"Then we have another problem."

* * *

><p>The silence in the guest quarters was broken by an ominous rumbling from far below them. The three of them froze as the floor beneath their feet began to move, the glass of the panorama window rattling in its frame. Delicate ornaments around the room were shaken loose from their fittings or shuffled off of the edge of tables, the sound of smashing glass adding to the throaty roar of the ground.<p>

Gradually the tremor came to an end, leaving the silence once again in its wake. The occurrence had almost become a normalcy, even for the strangers to Solaris, but Dawn knew that something was wrong. She climbed back to her feet and up to the window, looking down on the craft below. There was an agitation among the workers that never usually occurred after a tremor and Dawn looked from them to her time piece. "_No_."

Teyla, who had remained perfectly poised on her own feet during the quake, was beside her in seconds. "What is it?"

"It is too early…" Dawn whispered fearfully. She then swallowed and looked around at the pair of them. "The tremors should not have started yet, not until closer to the end. We should still have a day..."

"What do you mean 'should'?" Ronon asked with just a hint of impatience.

"The timeline…" Dawn began, and then backtracked. "This area does not usually have any seismic activity – that is why it is predicted as the last place to go and as such is the safest place on the continent. But if the tremors have already started…we might only have a few hours…"

* * *

><p>"Yeah, that's a pretty big problem."<p>

John felt like Murphy was working overtime this mission to make sure that every single one of his laws was followed. Just when things _might_ work out – something else had to come along to set things back again. Sadistic bastard.

He and Lance now stood in what would once have been the launch tunnel that connected the Jumper bay of the underground facility to the outside world. Now, about half way through, a cave-in of epic proportions blocked the way, the red sand of the desert above filling the tube from roof to floor. Who knew how big the blockage was, or if there was even any more of the tunnel left. But it was worth a try – how else were they going to get Rodney's Franken-Jumper out?

"Right, you've got what, thirty-plus guys up top?" John gestured at the indoor sandcastle. "We've got about a day left, so if we get them digging now we might be able to get it clear in time…what?"

"No." Lance insisted, his arms folded across his chest. "They cannot come down here. They cannot know of this place. Besides, they are busy completing the Ninth."

John furrowed his brow at him in confusion. "Wait…the ship that can't fly? Why have you…? You're planet is about to be destroyed, and as far as I can tell you're the guy in charge now – what are you doing making the last of your people waste their time with that?"

"I have seen the size of the craft, Sheppard," Lance replied quietly, staring straight ahead, arms still folded. "There are fifty-seven people in the facility, not including you, your team, my sister and myself. How do you suppose I tell them that I might be able to save a handful of them? How do you suppose I go about choosing that handful? It is better that they do not know – that they believe that they can all be saved if they finish the Ninth. There has to be another way out of the craft bay."

"So you can save yourself." John muttered.

Lance gave a short bark of laughter at that. "Is that not just a little hypocritical of you? Were you not thinking of just taking your team in the craft and leaving us behind?" John didn't answer. "Would you swap a seat on that craft for one of my people? Would you leave behind a friend to save a stranger? No. You wouldn't."

"I will admit, my people come first," John said forcefully, turning on Lance. "But there is room for eighteen people in that Jumper; and not a single seat will be empty when we leave. I will save as many as I can of _your_ people – will you?"

The two men stared each other down for a moment after that, the question reverberating around the dark tunnel and coming back to haunt them like the voice of conscience. And then a different sound came roaring around them – the ground moving beneath their feet. More sand from above added to the cave-in before them, the gaping hole growing.

"Crap!" John shouted over the din, grabbing a hold of Lance's shoulder. "We've got to go!"

Taking the hint, Lance began moving of his own accord, pushing ahead of John as the pair of them began running back towards the Jumper bay. All the while the ground continued to shake and the ceiling continued to collapse, the shower of debris seeming to be constantly right behind them despite how fast or far they ran. It was then that John's body decided to remind him of the shape he was in; his shoulder throbbing with a fresh wave of pain as exhausted muscles were forced into action. He was losing ground, the gap between him and Lance getting longer, while the gap between him and the waterfall of sand kept getting shorter. Where was adrenaline when you needed it?

But he was still moving, even after the ground stopped shaking. The roof was still coming down regardless, and the two of them ran the distance to the Jumper bay. Through some miracle, John managed to keep going, skidding through the doors just as Lance was closing them – the sand still chasing them like it was creature desperate to consume them. Thankfully only a small amount managed to get through before the bulk of the desert was trapped behind closed doors.

"What the hell was that?" Rodney greeted them from the back of the Jumper, only a few feet away from where they left him. Lance was staring at the sand on the ground with a strange expression while John was trying to get his breath back, so it took a moment for him to get an answer.

"We…just lost…our one way…outta here…" John sagged against the door both in defeat and exhaustion, his good hand clamped over the bullet wound that was bleeding afresh from the exercise.

"No, it is worse than that," Lance whispered as if he were in a state of shock. Both John and Rodney gave him a look as if to say _'really, worse than being trapped on a planet about to be destroyed?_' "That was a tremor. This area is becoming unstable. I told you that the timeline was completely fictional, we don't have a day – we have a few hours at best."

It took a moment for that to sink in, the hangar left in total silence. Then Sheppard gave the door a frustrated kick

"Oh _come on_!"

* * *

><p><strong>I told you the positive chapter ending wouldn't last long – I'm just too cruel to allow them to be in the clear for long :P (and just so you know – I'm the sadistic bastard known as Murphy in this story lol)<strong>

**As a side note, for those interested; I am about to start writing Chapter 2 of **_**the Vendetta**_** – it should be up in the next couple of days! See you then (or the next chap of this fic…again, whichever comes first :P)**


End file.
